THE  LIBRARY 
OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


•  • 


I 


FIRST  INTERVIEW  OF  FATHER  HUESTACE  AND  JOSEPH. 


MADELON   HAWLEY, 


THE  JESUIT  AND  HIS  VICTIM. 


of 


WILLIAM   EARLE   BINDER, 


"Would  you  pass  within 
The  chamber  of  this  mystery — and  bow 
Before  the  awful  knowledge  that  is  there'" 

MELLEN. 


H.    DAYTON,    No.    29    ANN-STREET. 
1857. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year        '",  by 
H.    DAYTON, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  Statr      for  the  Southern 
District  of  Nsw-Ycrk. 


J.  J.  REED, 


NTEK    AND    STBRKOTYPH 

168pruco-St.,N.  Y. 


P5 
itfti 


INTRODUCTION. 


IN  the  city  of  Philadelphia,  and  during  the  forepart  of 
the  year  1844,  I  accidentally  made  the  acquaintance  of  an 
old  man  named  Joseph  Secor.  He  was  a  strange,  but  yet  a 
kindly  being.  His  intimates,  and  they  numbered  but  very 
few,  were  unacquainted  with  his  real  name ;  and  I  only 
learned  it  after  our  chance  acquaintance  had  ripened  into  a 
more  lasting  friendship.  If  some  one,  more  inquisitive  than 
his  fellows,  chanced  to  raise  such  an  inquiry,  the  old  man 
with  a  quiet  smile  would  exclaim — "  why,  what's  the  diffe 
rence  ? — call  me  Uncle  Joseph — that  will  do."  And  there 
the  matter  ended. 

He  seemed  desirous  of  shunning  all  unnecessary  obser 
vation,  and  yet  was  never  discourteous,  or  rude,  or  unkind, 
or  ungenerous.  He  appeared  only  to  seek  retirement,  and 
in  doing  so  he  did  not,  by  any  means,  act  suspiciously.  He 
was  old,  and  yet  not  so  old  as  feeble  ;  he  was  poor,  and  yet 
he  was  content;  or  if  he  was  not  he  seemed  so.  Somehow 
I  pitied  the  old 'man's  loneliness,  and  having  grown  into  his 
good  opinion  from  the  beginning,  I  was  frequently  in  hi> 


1 663237 


INTRODUCTION. 


company.  It  was  but  very  few  that  he  would  admit  into  his 
privacy,  and  I  soon  became  the  most  favored  of  all.  Asso 
ciation  with  him  soon  convinced  me  that  he  was  educated, 
well  informed,  deeply  read,  and  possessed  of  a  most  close 
and  tenacious  memory.  During  our  interviews  he  was  gene 
rally  cheerful,  occasionally  thoughtful,  but  never  morbid. 
He  lived  in  the  upper  part  of  a  small  house  in  the  western 
outskirts  of  the  city ;  and  after  our  casual  acquaintance  had 
become  confirmed  I  usually  walked  out  there  two  or  three 
times  a  week.  I  liked  to  hear  him  talk,  his  mind  was  so 
extensively  stored  with  interesting  facts,  and  entertaining 
reminiscences. 

For  himself  he  seldom  went  abroad,  and  when  he  did  it- 
was  not  far.  One  of  the  windows  of  his  room  overlooked 
the  gardens  of  several  large  dwellings  which  stood  on  an 
opposite  street ;  and  there  the  old  man  generally  sat  and 
dreamed  away  his  unoccupied  hours.  He  lived  solitary  and 
alone ;  his  little  room  was  kept  in  order,  and  his  meals 
cooked  by  the  family  that  occupied  the  lower  part  of  the 
house.  Sometimes  one — sometimes  another  of  his  few 
friends  would  gladden  his  old  heart  with  some  trifling  pre 
sent,  which  they  fancied  he  needed,  or  imagined  would  grati 
fy  him.  In  return  he  never  said  more  than  "  thank  you  ;" 
but  the  tone  of  his  voice  was  sufficient  to  prove  the  words  not 
idle.  As  I  have  said,  I  was  his  most  frequent  visitor  ;  and 
the  old  man  seemed  pleased  with  the  attention  I  paid  him. 


INTRODUCTION. 


In  exchange  he  entertained  me  with  the  fruits  of  his  long 
experience,  and  close  observation.  I  was  well  repaid. 

It  was  in  1844,  it  will  be  remembered,  that  the  terrible 
and  bloody  riot  between  the  American  Protestants  and  Irish 
Catholics  occurred  in  Philadelphia ;  and  it  was  shortly  after 
that  eventful  and  exciting  period  that  I  happened  to  make 
the  acquaintance  of  this  isolated  old  man ;  how,  precisely, 
is  immaterial  to  the  development  of  my  narrative.  I  soon 
noticed  that  the  old  man  was  laboring  under  some  unusual 
nervous  excitement,  the  secret  of  which  he  finally  related 
to  me  himself.  Had  I  known  then  all  that  he  afterwards 
disclosed  to  me,  I  should  very  reasonably  have  argued  that 
the  nature  of  the  scenes  which  had  just  passed  must  neces 
sarily  have  exercised  a  powerful  influence  over  the  con 
dition  of  his  mind. 

Naturally  enough,  for  a  long  period  afterward,  our  con 
versation  would  almost  unconsciously  turn  upon  that  one 
engrossing  subject.  Together  we  canvassed  over  and  over 
all  the  incidents  from  the  beginning  to  the  end,  commencing 
•with  the  meeting  of  free  Americans — its  material  and  pur 
pose — continuing  on  to  the  unprovoked  and  murderous 
attack  which  the  Irish  Catholics  made  upon  the  citizens — 
the  sudden  and  wilful  shooting  down  of  several  unoffending 
persons — the  retaliation  of  the  Americans — the  destruction 
of  the  Irish  quarters,  and  the  burning  of  the  Nunnery,  and 
St.  Michael's  Churcn — the  conflagration  of  St.  Augustine's 


INTRODUCTION. 


— the  fortifying  of  St.  Mary's  by  the  Romanists — the 
threatened  attack  upon  the  building  by  the  infuriated  Ame 
ricans — the  charge  of  the  military,  and  the  shooting  down  of 
the  people ; — each  and  all  were  severally  arraigned  at  the 
bar  of  our  opinion.  And  the  old  man  invariably  took  bold 
grounds  against  the  Romish  Church  ;  and  always  lifted  up 
his  voice  against  her  iniquities. 

Thus  days,  and  weeks,  and  months  passed  away,  and  mid 
winter  was  upon  us.  The  season  was  intensely  and  un 
usually  bitter,  and  by  Christmas  the  river  was  frozen  over 
with  every  prospect  of  remaining  so  for  a  very  considerable 
period.  Still,  however,  I  continued  my  visits  to  the  old 
man — and  still,  somehow,  our  conversation  would  almost  un 
consciously  turn  upon  the  recent  riots — upon  the  rights  and 
immunities  of  American  citizens  generally,  and  upon  the 
high-handed  and  unwarrantable  position  which  the  great 
mass  of  Catholic  foreigners  were  fast  assuming. 

"  It  is  most  unmistakably  significant !"  he  exclaimed  one 
evening,  referring  to  the  collision  between  the  Americans 
and  the  Irish  Catholics.  "  The  wanton  attack  in  the  first 
place,  was  entirely  characteristic  of  the  Romanists  ;  for  to 
oppose  them  is  always  to  arouse  their  bitterest  hatred.  And 
what  they  cannot  accomplish  by  precept  or  example — al 
ways  in  their  hands  powerful  instruments — they  assuredly 
will  by  either  stratagem  or  open  and  undisguised  violence 
I  speak  advisedly  for  I  know" — the  old  man  raised  his  face 


INTRODUCTION. 


to  mine  and  emphasized  the  last  word  strongly — "  the  ma 
terial  of  the  Romish  Church.  The  retaliation  by  the  Ame- 

* 
ricans,  so  wild,  so  furious,  so  destructive,  is  an  everlasting 

evidence  of  what  may  be  expected  at  their  hands  when  once 
they  are  thoroughly  aroused  to  action  by  the  iron  heel  of 
Romish  oppression.  Both  elements  are  powerful,  and  there 
will  be  more  of  it  yet — more  of  it  yet.  The  time  is  fast  ripen 
ing  ;  but  I  shall  not  behold  the  fruition,  for  the  lamp  of  my 
life  burns  dimmer  and  dimmer.  I  have  seen  the  seed  of 
contention  planted,  but  the  blossoming  of  the  tree  is  for 
other  times  and  other  men." 

The  old  man  had  gradually  become  abstracted,  and  his 
last  remarks  were  uttered  as  if  he  was  entirely  oblivious  of 
my  presence.  4 

"  Let  the  day  come !"  I  replied,  warmed  by  his  words 
"  And  in  that  hour  may  this  'mother  of  Harlots'  sink  down 
forever  in  all  her  wickedness  and  shame." 

At  the  first  sound  of  my  voice  the  old  man  started  as  if 
suddenly  awaked  from  a  dream.  Lifting  his  face  again  to 
mine,  he  continued  to  watch  me,  with  kindling  eye,  until  I 
had  finished  my  briefly  expressed  hope. 

"  Amen !"  he  responded  earnestly,  and  his  voice  grew 
deep  and  full.  "  Amen  ;  for  the  day  is  dark  and  the  night, 
is  filled  with  crime  where  ever  she  abides.  Her  presence 
blasts  and  destroys  all  that  is  good — all  that  is  noble — all 
that  makes  life  honorable  or  happy.  Free  thought — free 


INTRODUCTION. 


principle — free  life,  cannot  exist  within  the   circle  of  her 

influence.     For  her  pleasure,  men,  and  women,  and  children, 

* 

are  transformed  into  incarnate  fiends — for  her  gratification 
all  law,  save  her  own  arbitrary  will,  is  ground  into  the  dust 
— for  her  aggrandizement  individuals,  communities,  and  na 
tions  are  pitilessly  robbed.  She  was  born  in  ignorance,  and 
darkness,  and  crime — cradled  in  iniquity,  and  fed  with  the 
the  warm  blood  of  massacred  innocents  !  What  else  then  can 
men  expect  ?  What  from  such  a  creed  of  blood,  and  sin,  and 
shame  ?  What  from  a  religion  which  assumes  to  hold  the 
keys  of  heaven,  and  to  stand  sentinel  over  the  gates  of  hell  ? 
What  ?  Nothing  but  misery ! — nothing  but  crime  ! — nothing 
but  blood!" 

The  old  man  straightened  himself  up,  and  spoke  with 
a  power  and  vehemence  I  had  never  before  seen  him  exhibit. 
He  was  thrillingly  eloquent.  It  was  a  new  phase  in  his 
character,  for  he  was  usually  quiet  and  practical.  I  won 
dered  and  looked,  but  did  not  break  the  silence  which 
Mlowed  his  energetic  words. 

In  a  few  moments,  and  almost  imperceptibly,  his  whole 
form  underwent  a  change.  Once  again  his  body  bowed,  and 
the  fire  of  his  eye  went  out;  and  there  gathered  upon  his 
brow  a  heavy  cloud — a  look  of  agony,  of  suffering,  of  sorrow. 

I  felt  that  some  terrible  memory  was  rushing  through  his 
brain — some  recollection  struggling  for  the  liberty  of  an 
utterance.  And  I  was  correct  as  the  reader  will  see. 


INTRODUCTION. 


The  struggle  in  the  old  man's  heart  was  a  stern  one,  and 
with  a  quick,  nervous  step  he  paced  up  and  down  his  little 
apartment.  Let  what  might  be  the  result  of  his  emotion, 
I  thought  it  best  to  allow  his  own  feelings  to  decide  him, 
and  so  continued  speechless.  Suddenly  he  stopped  in  the 
centre  of  the  room,  and  turning  to  me  he  grasped  my  hand 
tightly ;  not,  however,  despairingly,  but  as  one  who  gathers 
confidence  from  the  clasp  of  honest  friendship. 

"I  will  speak  now!  I  must  tell 'Somebody — I  feel  it — 
and  better  you  than  many  others  !"  he  exclaimed,  in  a  short, 
agitated  whisper.  "  I  cannot  contain  myself  any  longer — 
this  concealment  is  killing  me.  The  truth,  terrible  and 
hateful  as  it  is  in  this  case,  must  be  told.  The  threads  of 
my  life  are  cracking  fast,  and  I  cannot,  cannot  die  with  such 
a  weight  upon  my  heart." 

I  gazed  at  him  curiously.  His  conduct  and  his  words 
were  at  once  singular  and  unusual — entirely  at  variance  with 
his  generally  quiet  and  unobtrusive  manner. 

"  Bend  low," — said  he,  without  noticing  my  look  of  aston 
ishment — "  bend  low,  so  that  even  the  walls .  may  not  hear 
what  I  say  to  you.  We  have  talked  of  Komish  bigotry, 
cruelty  and  deception,  and  of  priestly  enormities,  until  your 
young  blood  has  grown  hot  with  anger  and  indignation,  and 
your  soul  has  revolted  at  the  things  which  your  imagination 
has  pictured.  And  yet  you  did  not  think — how  could  you  ? 


INTRODUCTION. 


— that  I  had  ever  been  a  Papist — more,  a  priest — an  artful, 
cunning,  wicked  priest." 

"  No,  it  cannot  be !"  I  replied,  beginning  to  doubt  my 
companion's  sanity.  "You  jest  or — know  not  what  you  say  !" 

"I  do  not  jest!"  he  exclaimed  energetically.  "I  was 
never  more  in  earnest — never  better  appreciated  my  words  !" 

"You,  a  Eomanist! — a  priest!  One  of  that  class  who 
have  always  rendered  themselves  obnoxious  to  every  prin 
ciple  of  honesty  or  honor  ?  Who  have  been  the  great  pur 
veyors  of  crime  from  the  very  extreme  of  ages  ?"  I  ex 
claimed,  incredulously. 

"  Yes,  yes ;  I  have  been  such,  and  I  tell  it  to  you  now 
with  shame  and  horror — now  that  the  vail  of  darkness  has 
been  lifted  from  my  soul,  and  the  light  of  a  true  faith  has 
rent  the  thick  pall  of  bigotry,  superstition,  and  crime.  But 
even  yet,  sometimes,  though  years  have  passed  away,  and  I 
have  struggled  hard  to  atone  for  my  sins,  a  memory  of  other 
days,  so  black,  so  terrible,  so  crushing,  flits  through  niy 
aching  brain  that  I  feel  as  if  I  should  go  mad,  stark  mad, 
with  the  thought  of  it." 

"  I  can  not  believe  what  you  tell  me  !"  I  once  more  ex 
claimed,  bewildered  by  his  strange  words  and  excited  man 
ner. 

"  Cannot  ?  Right !  It  would  be  a  greater  wonder  if  you 
could.  Sometimes," — and  the  old  man's  look  became  va 
cant — "  sometimes  I  can  scarcely  believe  it  myself.  And 


INTRODUCTION. 


yet  it  is  so — memory,  mysterious  memory  forbids  me  think 
ing  otherwise.  Would  I  could !  "Would,  0  would  the  past 
were  but  an  idle  fancy  of  my  weakening  brain." 

"  And  even  yet  I  can  scarcely  credit  your  singular  ac 
knowledgment  !"  I  continued,  more  and  more  astonished. 
"  Still  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  you  but  jest." 

"  Jest !" — exclaimed  the  old  man,  elevating  his  voice,  and 
speaking  with  a  sternness  which  I  had  hitherto  deemed  foreign 
to  his  nature.  "  Jest  ?  Do  my  words,  or  my  manner,  or 
my  subject,  imply  that  I  jest  ?  Would  to  God  that  it  were 
bnt  a  jest,  then  could  I  lie  down  and  die,  and  not  have  this 
fear,  this  dread  at  my  heart.  Jest  ?  It  were  a  sorry  jest 
thus  to  confess  myself  so  vile  and  hateful.  No,  no,  young 
man,  I — do — not — jest !" 

I  felt  the  reproach  contained  in  the  old  man's  words, 
and  exclaimed  apologetically ; — 

"  I  would  not  wound  your  feelings  by  a  doubt,  but  that — " 

"  I  know  it — know  all  you  would  say — guess  what  you 
think,"  the  old  man  broke  in.  "  I  was  quick  in  my  words, 
but  there  is — much  at  my  heart.  I  get  querulous  some 
times,  and  did  you  know  all,  you  would  not  much  wonder. 
Much  thought,  sometimes,  makes  me  unjust.  But  leave 
me  now,  friend,  for  I  am  weary  in  mind  and  body.  Don't 
think  hard  that  I  should  bid  you  go,  for  I  must  rest.  The 
secret  which  I  have  divulged  to  you  has  agitated  me ;  and 

at  the  best  I  am  very  feeble.     Some  other  time  we  will  talk 
1* 


10  INTRODUCTION. 


further  upon  this  subject.  I  have  much  to  tell  you  that 
yet  you  do  not  dream  of.  But  leave  me  now." 

The  old  man  sank  down  upon  a  chair,  evidently  exhausted, 
and  buried  his  face  in  his  thin  white  hands.  I  offered  to 
speak  again  but  he  silently  beckoned  me  away  Wonder- 
Lngly  I  left  the  room. 

Twenty-four  hours  after — about  the  same  time  on  the 
following  evening — I  was  suddenly  and  peremptorily  sum 
moned  to  his  bedside.  He  was  sick — sick  unto  death,  it  was 
thought.  I  hastened  to  obey  the  call.  I  found  him  much 
altered  even  in  the  little  time  since  we  had  parted.  Death 
was  indeed  busy  at  his  life-strings  ;  and  I  felt  that  in  a  brief 
time  the  few  straining  chords  which  still  bound  him  to  this 
world  would  be  snapped  asunder,  and  his  freed  soul  would 
fly  away  upon  its  mission  to  eternity.  Hourly  and  momently 
the  gulf  narrowed  down  which  separated  his  spirit  from  the 
great  mystery  beyond  the  grave — hourly  and  momently  the 
pains  of  that  second  birth  became  more  intense — in  a  little 
time  the  last,  great,  final  agony  would  be  over,  and  I  hoped, 
whatever  were  his  sins,  that  the  spirit  of  a  repentant  man 
would  be  born  again  unto  God. 

A  dim-light  was  burning  in  the  little  solitary  room,  and 
its  one  single  occupant  was  alone,  if  indeed  men  are  ever 
alone.  He  seemed  glad,  and  doubtless  was  so,  when  I  arrived  ; 
and  addressed  me  kindly,  though  with  a  somewhat  pre-occu- 
pied  manner.  I  walked  directly  to  the  bedside,  took  his 


INTRODUCTION.  11 


attenuated  hand  in  mine,  and  sat  down ;  after  having,  at  his 
request,  arranged  the  pillows  so  that  he  could  sit  up  without 
much  exertion. 

A  moment  of  silence  ensued,  broken  only  by  the  long, 
low,  instinctive  death-howl  of  a  neighboring  watch-dog.  I 
shuddered  at  the  fearful  omen,  but  the  old  man  remained 
impassively  abstracted. 

At  length  he  raised  his  head,  and  pointing  with  his  long, 
lank  finger  across  the  room,  he  whispered ; — 

"Bolt  the  door!" 

Quietly  I  complied  with  what  seemed  to  me  a  very  sin 
gular  request,  and  returned  again,to  my  seat.  I  could  not, 
however,  avoid  a  look  of  astonishment  at  such  an  unusual 
and  suspicious  proceeding.  He  seemed  to  understand  my 
thoughts  for  he  said  ; — 

"  When  men  talk  of  murder  they  should  be  safe  from  in 
trusion!" 

Mingling  with  the  words  arose  again  upon  the  still  air  the 
watch-dog's  ominous  howl.  At  the  best  of  times  a  fearful 
sound,  at  that  moment  it  ascended  up  like  a  wail  of  agony 
from  the  white  lips  of  the  murderer's  victim.  I  started  and 
trembled.  The  sick  man  observed  my  momentary  agitation, 
and  catching  my  hand  in  his  cold  grasp  he  exclaimed ; — 

"  Nay,  do  not  start ! — you  have  nothing  to  fear  !  you  are 
not  guilty  of  any  crime  !  you  have  not,  like  me,  stood  by  and 
heard  men's  lives  plotted  away !  you  have  not  witnessed  the 


12  INTRODUCTION. 

wanton  destruction  of  unoffending,  defenceless  women,  as  I 
have  ! — why  then  should  you  start  and  tremble  at  the  men 
tion  of  murder  ?" 

"Merciful  Heaven,  old  man,  can  you  have  ever  been  im 
plicated  in  such  fearful  doings  ?"  I  exclaimed,  recoiling  from 
his  touch  with  a  feeling  of  horror.  "  I  would  have  staked 
my  life  to  the  contrary  had  it  been  necessary." 

My  kindly  words  touched  his  fast  withering  heart,  and  he 
brushed  a  tear  from  his  sunken  and  hollow  eye.  After  an 
other  brief  period  of  silence  he  remarked ; — 

"In  all  men's  lives  the  past  has  some  mystery — with 
many  much  crime.  Mine  is  surely  not  an  exception.  When 
first  I  informed  you  that  I  had  been  a  Komish  priest,  you 
refused  to  credit  my  words — still  less  will  you  be  likely  to 
believe  the  apparently  wild  narrative  which  I  am  now  about 
disclosing,  if  strength  is  permitted  me.  And  yet,  both  decla 
rations  are  eminently  true.  Long  since,  however,  I  cast  off 
the  dark  superstition,  and  with  both  heart  and  lips,  confessed 
myself  to  the  only  true  and  living  God.  And  now  I  hate 
it  as  once  I  revered  it ;  and  could  my  curse  annihilate  the 
hideous  monster,  my  last  breath  should  pass  away  in  a 
maledietion.  But  these  are  worrisome  thoughts,  and  I  must 
check  them.  I  sent  for  you  that  I  might  redeem  my  word, 
and  relieve  my  heart.  The  occurrence  I  am  about  relating 
I  had  designed  communicating  to  you  on  the  first  favorable 
opportunity  ;  death  has  but  hurried  on  the  confession." 


INTRODUCTION.  13 


Here  the  old  man  again  paused — bade  me  .replenish  the 
fire,  and  mix  for  him  a  stimulant,  as  he  directed.  These 
things  complied  with,  I  trimmed  the  dimly  burning  lamp, 
settled  myself  down  as  comfortably  as  the  circumstances 
would  permit,  and  signified  my  willingness  to  receive  his 
revelations. 

The  thrilling  and  almost  incredible  story  which  I  that 
night  listened  to  will  be  revealed  in  the  following  pages ; 
and  improbable  as  the  circumstances  may  at  first  appear 
I  cannot^  for  my  own  part,  doubt  the  veracity  of  that  poor, 
old  man,  standing  as  he  was  upon  the  very  outermost  brink 
of  eternity.  Why  should  I  doubt? — why  should  any  refuse 
to  believe  ?  Things  may  appear  improbable  that  are  not  im 
possible.  And  why  should  any  one  thing,  except  indeed  it 
be  miraculous,  be  impossible  to  so  tremendous  a  combination 
as  the  Romish  Church  ? 


THE    JESUIT. 


CHAPTER   I. 

I  WAS  born  in  the  city  of  Baltimore,  of  strictly 
Catholic  parents — by  them  was  religiously  educat 
ed  for  the  Church,  and  at  an  early  age  became  an 
assistant  priest.  From  that  period  until  I  was  nearly 
thirty  years  old — some  ten  years — I  continued  to 
officiate  in  that  capacity  in  my  native  city,  never 
leaving  it  except  for  an  occasional  short  visit  to 
some  of  the  more  southern  cities.  I  had  talent,  and 
might  have  risen  higher,  but  that  somehow  I  did 
not  feel  ambitious  of  preferment,  and  so  remained  in 
a  minor  position.  During  that  ten  years  I  saw  much 
— heard  much — learned  much — but  it  was  all  dark 
— all  sinful.  A  multitude  of  crimes,  as  numerous 
among  the  priesthood  as  the  laity,  came  under  my 
own  immediate  observation ;  and  though  I  partici- 


16  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

pated  in  but  little  of  the  deviltry  of  the  forn  er,  and 
none  of  the  latter,  as  a  good  Catholic  I  was  compelled 
to  close  my  eyes  to  all  the  wickedness  and  folly  that 
was  transpiring  around  me  ;  except  where  it  con 
flicted  with  the  interests  of  the  Church. 

Need  I  particularize  all  that  I  saw  and  heard? 
Need  I  tell  of  deeds  of  extortion  and  robbery?  Of 
how  men  were  quietly  murdered,  and  wronged  wo 
men,  wives,  and  daughters,  mysteriously  put  out  of 
the  way?  Need  I  tell  of  drunken,  dissipated  priests, 
or  rehearse  the  particulars  of  their  frequently  obscene 
and  blasphemous  carousals  ?  No ! — for  you  have 
heard  many  such  stories  before,  and  yet  can  scarcely 
credit  them — scarcely  believe  that  such  things  can 
be  in  this  enlightened  day,  and  free  Protestant  land. 
But  you,  and  such  as  you,  cannot  penetrate  into  the 
heart  of  the  Church,  and  until  you  can,  the  decep 
tion,  and  cruelty,  and  sinfulness  of  her  acts,  though 
told  a  thousand  times  over,  will  still  be  looked  upon 
as  too  monstrous  for  belief.  But  once  tear  away  the 
vail  that  conceals  the  inner  sanctuary  of  her  deeds, 
and  you  will  never  more  need  words  to  convince  you. 

Just  previous  to  my  thirtieth  birth-day  I  was 
peremptorily  summoned  to  this  city  by  order  of  the 
Vicar  General  of  M d,  and  through  the  connivance 


The  Jesv.it  and  Jiis  Victim.  17 

of  one  Father  Huestace,  a  scheming  Jesuit  priest. 
The  reason  for  this  somewhat  unusual  proceeding 
was  not  given  at  the  time.  It  was  only  my  duty 
to  obey,  and  like  a  true  Catholic,  I  did.  I  came. 
Whether  the  Vicar  General  and  the  Jesuit  were 
banded  together — or  whether  the  latter  had  imposed 
upon  the  former  to  secure  my  presence — why  /  was 
selected,  or  what  might  be  the  object  in  view  I  knew 
not,  nor  did  I  trouble  myself  to  inquire.  My  orders 
were  explicit,  and  as  I  then  thought  not  to  be  slighted ; 
so  in  due  time  I  arrived  here  unknown  and  unknow 
ing. 

Father  Huestace,  the  Jesuit  in  question,  lived  in 
an  o1  d-fashioned  house  adjoining  to,  and  connected 
with,  the  church  over  which  he  presided.  The  church- 
building,  like  the  priest's  dwelling,  was  time-worn, 
but  still  remarkably  substantial;  facing  upon  the 
front  on  a  large  thoroughfare,  and  extending  back  to 
a  small  street  upon  the  rear.  The  dwelling-house 
could  be  entered  from  the  thoroughfare  on  the  front 
by  a  narrow  avenue  running  along  the  north  side  of 
the  church ;  and  from  the  rear  through  a  grave-yard, 
which  was  located  on  the  east  side  of  the  church, 
that  was  back  of  it,  and  on  the  south  side  of  the  house 
The  rear  end  of  the  church  on  the  north  side,  and 


18 


the  front  end  of  the  dwelling-house  on  the  south 
side,  were  built  up  together  for  several  feet;  and 
through  these  walls  a  passage-way  had  been  con 
structed,  by  which  the  priest,  who  only  kept  the  key 
of  the  door,  could  pass  from  one  building  to  the  other. 
The  edifice  and  all  its  surroundings  were  destroyed 
by  fire  during  the  recent  disturbance ;  but  you, 
doubtless,  can  remember  it  well. 

As  early  as  possible  after  my  arrival  in  this  city, 
I  sought  an  interview  with  the  priest,  for  so  my 
superior  had  directed  me. 

We  met  in  his  library,  a  room  sacred  to  himself 
alone.  This  apartment  was  in  the  centre  of  the 
building  on  the  first  floor.  The  front  room  facing 
towards  the  public  street  was  used  as  a  general  re 
ception  room,  and  those  immediately  in  the  rear  or 
on  the  east  side  of  the  library  for  domestic  purposes 
The  front-door  opened  into  a  three-foot  hall  on  the 
north  side,  which  communicated  directly  with  the 
rooms  in  the  rear  part  of  the  house,  and  through 
them  the  upper  stories  of  the  building  were  reached. 
The  library  could  not  be  entered  in  any  other  way 
than  through  the  door  opening  into  the  hall,  and 
the  one  communicating  with  the  church  building 

The  somewhat  peculiar  arrangement  of  the  build 


The  Jesuit  a, id  his  Victim.  19 


ing,  and  the  general  massiveness  of  the  walls  and 
partitions  rendered  it  wholly  impossible  to  distin 
guish  any  moderate  sounds  from  one  room  to  the 
other.  The  library  especially  seemed  designed  for 
secrecy.  Under  ordinary  circumstances  its  inmates 
were  perfectly  secure,  as  only  violent  noises  could  be 
heard  even  in  the  adjoining  rooms.  That  apartment, 
as  you  will  presently  see,  was  the  silent  witness  to 
many  a  deed  of  injury  and  crime. 

The  only  other  occupant  of  the  building,  besides 
the  priest,  was  an  old  and  decrepit  female  attendant 
who  neither  saw  nor  heard  anything  but  as  he  di 
rected. 

Father  Huestace  himself  was  a  tall,  dark,  iron- 
looking  man — one  whom  only  a  blind  person  would 
have  been  likely  to  accuse  of  much  kindness,  much 
pity,  or  much  generosity.  And  yet  to  the  superficial 
observer  he  might  have  seemed  to  possess  all  these 
qualities,  and  more,  while  in  reality  not  one  such 
emotion  ever  swayed  his  stony  heart.  In  his  soul 
he  was,  in  fact,  an  unqualified  villain.  That  I  knew 
not  then,  you  may  be  sure ;  for  like  the  rest,  I  bent  to 
the  influence  of  his  presence.  But  I  had  reason 
afterwards  to  know  his  true  character,  and  I  will  tell 
you  now,  what  it  was.  He  could  rob  the  orphan 


20  Madelon  Hcwley,  or 

without  one  remorseful  pang — pick  his  friend's  pocket 
with  a  smile — ravish  female  virtue  unscrupulously,  and 
with  a  depth  of  rascality  and  hypocrisy  unparalleled, 
plan  a  murder,  and  then  say  a  requium  and  de  pro- 
fundus  for  the  poor  wretch  he  had  been  the  means  of 
destroying.  To  him  might  well  have  been  applied 
the  words  of  Shakespeare : — 

"  beware  of  yonder  dog  ; 

Look,  when  he  fawns,  he  bites  ;   and,  when  he  bites, 

His  venom  tooth  will  rankle  to  the  death : 

Have  not  to  do  with  him,  beware  of  him ; 

Sin,  death  and  hell  have  set  their  marks  on  him ; 

And  all  their  ministers  attend  on  him:" 

Upon  entering  the  apartment  I  saluted  the  priest 
in  the  customary  manner.  He  responded  quietly 
and  kindly  ;  or  at  least  he  seemed  to. 

He  was  dressed  at  this  our  first  interview  in  his 
long,  dark,  pontifical  robes  ;  and  though  his  face  was 
hard  and  unintellectual,  his  stature,  thus  set  off,  was 
lofty  and  commanding.  There  was  in  his  whole 
appearance  a  singular  mixture  of  good  and  bad ;  and 
judging  by  appearance  only  it  was  impossible  to  tell 
which  really  predominated,  so  strangely  were  they 
blended.  You  would  have  felt  him  dangerous,  and 
yet  insensibly  have  been  drawn  towards  him ;  and 
you  would  have  known  him  deceitful,  and  yet  un. 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  21 

consciously  have  trusted  him.  He  was  a  man  marked 
out  for  a  purpose — good  or  bad  as  he  himself  willed 
it.  There  was  the  power  to  govern  apparent  in  his 
whole  person. 

I  had  advanced  but  a  couple  of  paces  beyond  the 
door,  where  I  remained  standing.  After  the  inter 
change  of  greetings  a  momentary  pause  ensued.  He, 
probably,  was  waiting  for  me  to  explain  my  business, 
and  I  for  him  to  ask  it.  At  length  he  broke  the  si 
lence  by  remarking; — 

"You  look  weary,  sir;  and  bear  the  marks  of  tra 
vel  on  your  person.  Have  you  business  with  me  ? 
and  whence  come  you?" 

l"  To  your  first  question,  your  reverence,  if  you  are 
Father  Huestace  as  I  take  it,  Yes!"  I  responded.  "To 
your  last,  from  Baltimore  direct.  This  letter  from 
the  Vicar  General,"  and  I  drew  the  missive  from  my 
pocket,  and  placed  it  in  his  hand — "will  doubtless 
explain  all." 

"  Ah !"  he  exclaimed,  glancing  rapidly  over  my  per 
son,  while  at  the 'same  moment  his  fingers  were  busy 
with  the  letter.  "  So !"  he  continued,  smoothing  out 
the  paper  preparatory  to  making  himself  acquainted 
with  its  contents.  "  Be  seated,  sir,  be  seated !"  he  still 
went  on,  waving  me  to  a  chair,  without  lifting  his  head. 


22  Mad-don  Haiuley,  or 

After  a  careful  perusal  of  the  documer  t  he  mutter 
ed  a  gratified  "humph!"  and  re-folding  the  paper, 
placed  it  in  a  massive  book-case,  that  occupied  nearly 
the  whole  of  one  end  of  the  room. 

"  Your  name  is  Joseph  Secor !"  he  exclaimed,  as  he 
turned  away  from  the  book-case,  and  directed  the 
glance  of  his  black  piercing  eyes  full  upon  me.  "  I 
have  been  expecting  your  arrival,  as  you,  doubtless, 
well  know.  At  this  moment,  however,  I  cannot  ex 
plain  why  we" — and  he  emphasized  the  last  word, 
unquestionably  to  lead  me  to  think,  whether  it  were 
so  or  not,  that  others  were  associated  with  himself  in 
the  business  in  view — "  have  sent  for  you  here.  I  am 
about  to  enter  the  church  and  perform  a  peculiar 
ceremony — the  excommunication  of  an  apostate — 
and  must  therefore  defer  all  communications  until 
this  evening,  at  which  time  you  will  find  me  here. 
It  were  best,  too,  for  certain  reasons,  which  will 
hereafter  appear,  that  you  should  be  present  on  this 
occasion,  so  long  as  you  are  here  ;  but  only  as  one 
of  the  audience;  therefore  enter  with  the  throng. 
One  word  of  caution,  however.  You  are  here  for  a 
particular  purpose — one  of  an  expressly  secret  char 
acter,  and  it  is  essentially  necessary  that  for  the  time 
being  you  comport  yourself  only  as  one  of  the 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  23 

humblest  members  of  the  Holy  Church.  To  one  like 
you,  I  need  add  nothing  further." 

Turning*  upon  his  heel,  he  opened  the  door  commu 
nicating  with  the  church,  and  the  pealing  notes  of 
the  great  organ,  mingling  with  the  chorus  of  many 
voices,  struck  solemnly  upon  my  ear. 

"Hark!  the  services  are  already  begun!"  continued 
the  priest.  "  I  must  enter  the  church." 

With  an  humble  obeisance  I  quitted  the  apart 
ment;  and  the  priest,  with  a  precaution,  seldom  at 
fault,  locked  the  door  of  his  little  sanctum,  previous 
to  entering  the  sacred  edifice. 

Passing  along  the  avenue  I  soon  emerged  into  the 
front  street.  Some  few  persons  were  still  making 
their  way  into  the  church.  Notwithstanding  the  bit 
ing  atmosphere,  for  it  was  winter,  and  the  season  had 
opened  very  sharply,  I  paused  to  reflect  upon  the 
strange  position  in  which  I  so  suddenly  found  myself. 
Even  bound  to  my  religion  as  I  then  was,  I  yet  expe 
rienced  a  feeling  of  repugnance  towards  Father  Hues- 
tace.  Something  in  his  manner  made  me  feel  pecu 
liarly.  Nor  did  I  half  like  my  secret  mission,  though 
such  a  thought  as  disobeying  my  superiors  never  once; 
at  that  moment,  entered  my  mind. 


24  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

I  could  not  but  feel  that  Father  Huestace  was 
powerful — powerful  in  his  position,  age,  and  expe 
rience — powerful  in  the  sternness  and  acuteness  of 
his  character,  and  the  determination  which  was  ap 
parent  in  every  word  he  uttered.  That  he  was  a  man 
of  fierce  parts,  and  violent  temperament,  no  one  could 
doubt,  who  looked  upon  the  deep  furrows  which 
ploughed  his  dark  brow.  That  too,  he  arrogated  to 
himself  the  mastership  of  those  beneath '  him,  was 
clearly  evident  in  his  commanding  tones,  and  imperi- 
tive  manners.  He  was  a  man,  in  every  capacity,  to 
be  feared,  as  events  proved. 

I  was  suddenly  startled  from  these  reflections  by 
the  close  proximity  of  two  gentlemen,  who  brushed 
against  me  as  they  passed.  When  but  a  few  steps  in 
advance  of  me,  one  whispered  to  the  other ; — 

"  I  am  afraid  we  shall  be  too  late,  Charley !" 

"I  hope  not,  Frank!"  responded  the  other.  "I 
should  very  much  like  to  witness  their  mummery. 
Besides,  Madelon " 

"Madelon!  What  of  her,  Charley?"  exclaimed  the 
one  who  had  been  addressed  as  Frank. 

"  Nothing ;  only  she  is  curious  to  have  an  account 
of  the  ceremony,"  responded  the  other. 

"  Ey-the-bye,  you  have  not  yet  told  me  how  she  bears 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  25 

this  business;  and  I  have  not  seen  her,  as  you  know, 
since  the  fact  became  public,"  said  Frank. 

"Bear  it!"  ejaculated  the  other.  "Like  an  honest 
and  brave  Christian  lady,  as  she  is.  She  does  not  fear, 
but  only  pities  the  presumption  that  can  dictate 
such  a  course.  Blest  with  heaven's  approving  smile, 
she  can  defy  all  human  curses." 

At  this  stage  of  the  conversation  the  two  young  men 
entered  the  church.  I  had  followed  them — with  no  de 
finite  object  however — and  entered  the  building  close 
behind  them.  The  conversation  I  had  overheard  was 
a  blank  to  me,  at  that  time  at  least ;  consequently  I 
did  not  feel  particularly  interested  in  their  discourse, 
further  than  that  it  led  me  to  conclude  that  the  young 
men  were  in  some  wise  interested  in  her  who  was 
about  incurring  the  extreme  vengeance  of  the  Church 
of  Rome.  So  far  it  attracted  my  momentary  atten 
tion  ;  just  as  it  would  have  arrested  you  or  any  one 
else. 

Within  the  church  was  a  dense  mass  of  people, 
crowding  every  available  spot  from  the  altar  to  the 
door.  Mingling  together,  were  old  and  young — rich 
and  poor — vicious  and  virtuous — curious  and  indiffe 
rent.  Many  could  not  obtain  seats  at  all,  and  were, 
consequently,  crowded  together  in  the  vestibule  and 


26  Model-on  Hawley,  or 

the  aisles.  The  occasion  was  an  unusual  one,  and  had 
attracted  as  well  the  heretic  as  the  devout  believer. 

At  the  moment  of  my  entrance  into  the  church  a 
deep  and  painful  silence  had  fallen  upon  the  vast  as 
semblage.  Upon  the  highest  platform  of  the  altar, 
towering  up  amid  burning  tapers,  and  emblazoned 
images  of  the  crucified  Jesus,  stood  the  priest. 

A  portion  of  the  ceremony  had  been  gone  through 
with;  and  now  the  priest  with  uplifted  hands  was 
about  invoking  the  awful  and  impious  curse  of  ex 
communication.  A  sudden  shudder  seemed  to  pass 
from  one  to  the  other  of  all  that  host  of  people.  And 
then  the  silence,  already  intense,  grew  oppressive ; 
and  many  fairly  gasped  for  breath.  All  eyes  were 
intently  fixed  upon  the  altar,  as  if  the  whole  as 
semblage  were  fascinated.  Suddenly  the  full,  deep, 
sonorous  voice  of  the  priest  broke  upon  the  heavy 
silence ;  and  he  cried  aloud  with  startling  distinctness; 

"'By  authority  of  God  Almighty,  the  Father,  Son, 
and  Holy  Ghost,  and  the  undefiled  Virgin  Mary, 
mother  and  patroness  of  our  Saviour;  and  of  all  ce 
lestial  virtues;  Angels,  Archangels,  Thrones,  Domi 
nions,  Powers?  Cherubims  and  Seraphims ;  and  all  the 
Holy  Patriarchs,  Prophets,  and  all  the  Apostles  and 
Evangelists,  of  the  Holy  Innocents,  who  in  the  sight 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  27 

of  the  Holy  Lamb  are  worthy  to  sing  the  new  song  of 
the  Holy  Martyrs,  and  Holy  Confessors,  and  of  all  the 
Holy  Virgins,  and  of  all  Saints  together  with  the 
Holy  elect  of  God;  may  she,  Madelon  Hawley,  be 
damned.  Wo  excommunicate  and  anathematize  her 
from  the  threshold  of  tfie  Holy  Church  of  God  Al 
mighty.  Amen !' " 

"  Amen !  Amen  1"  responded  an  hundred  voices  in 
one  voluminous  chorus. 

And  then  the  spell  was  broken  which  seemed  to 
have  bound  the  audience;  and  numbers  crowded 
quickly  towards  the  doors,  as  if  only  anxious  to  get 
away  from  a  scene  so  terribly  painful,  so  presump 
tuously  wicked. 

Standing  as  I  did  so  near  one  of  the  doors,  I  was 
directly  in  the  path  of  the  out-going  crowd ;  and  so 
was  borne  along,  whether  desirable,  or  otherwise, 
with  the  current.  I  offered  no  resistance,  however, 
and  consequently  in  a  very  few  minutes  found  myself 
outside  the  door. 

Strange  as  it  may  appear  I  again  encountered  the 
young  men  whom  I  had  met  upon  entering.  Some 
evil  power  appeared  to  throw  me  in  their  way.  They 
seemed  deeply  affected  by  the  ceremony  which  they 
had  partly  witnessed,  and  the  ruddy  red  of  their 


28  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

fine  faces  had  given  place  to  an  unnatural  paleness. 
As  I  passed  them,  one  said  to  the  other ; 

"What  think  you,  Frank?  Could  anything  more 
awful  be  well  imagined  ?" 

"  No !"  responded  the  other.  "  Satan  himself  could 
not  have  concocted  a  greater  piece  of  blasphemy. 
And  yet  such  things  are  tolerated  in  a  Christian  com 
munity,  and  by  Christian  people.  It  is  a  wonder  that 
God  does  not  visibly  demonstrate  his  abhorrence  of 
such  arrogant  impiety." 

Here  the  crowd  separated  us,  and  I  lost  the  re 
mainder  of  their  conversation.  I  looked  for  them 
a  few  moments  after,  but  they  were  no  where  to  be 
seen. 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  29 


CHAPTER    II. 

« 

SOME  few  hours  subsequent,  and  Father  Huestace 
again  admitted  me  within  the  sacred  precincts  of 
his  library.  After  securing  the  door  he  directed  me 
to  a  seat  upon  one  side  of  a  heavy  table,  which  stood 
in  the  centre  of  the  room.  He  then  seated  himself 
opposite  me  upon  the  other  side.  A  swinging  lamp 
overhead  cast  a  dim-light  upon  our  faces,  and  the 
table  between  us.  Once  again  he  fixed  his  keen 
black  eyes  upon  me,  and  this  time  as  if  he  would 
penetrate  into  my  very  soul. 

I  have  often  wondered  since,  whether  he  did  not 
recognize  something  in  my  face  or  appearance— or 
at  least  imagine  that  he  did — which  created  in  him 
an  undefined  doubt — a  kind  of  presentiment  that 
evil  would  spring  up  between  us.  However,  after 
carefully  scrutinizing  me  for  several  moments  he 


30 


appeared  to  gather  confidence,  and  proceeded  to  com 
municate  to  me  the  substance  of  that  business,  for 
the  more  certain  transaction  of  which  my  presence 
had  been  invoked.  Few  preliminaries  were  had. 
We  did  not  need  them.  I  felt  that  I  was  there  to 
obey  the  will  of  the  man  before  me,  and  was  then 
prepared  to  do  so.  He,  too,  knew  the  same,  and  what 
more  was  needed  ?  Resting  both  arms  upon  the  edge 
of  the  table,  he  said : — 

"  About  sixteen  years  since,  Robert  Hawley,  a  good 
Catholic,  died  in  this  city  of  an  epidemical  fever, 
leaving  his  daughter,  an  only  child,  then  about  six 
years  of  age,  the  sole  heiress  of  a  most  princely 
estate." 

"  She  that  was  excommunicated  to-day !"  I  ob 
served,  casting  an  inquiring  glance  at  the  priest. 

"The  same!"  he  replied.  "We  could  no  longer 
bear  with  her  open  heresy.  But  to  continue.  In 
consequence  of  the  child's  extreme  youth,  her  reli 
gious  preferences  and  inclinations  were  not  very 
deeply  engrafted;  and  thus  through  her  incom- 
petency  to  judge  of  what  was  right  and  proper, 
some  Protestant  relatives  managed  to  obtain  posses 
sion  of  her  person  before  we  were  aware  of  any  such 
intention.  A  triumph,  you,  doubtless,  think,  for  the 


The  Jesuit  and  Ms  Victim.  31 

meddling  heretics.  It  was,  and  the  Church  here 
abouts  felt  it.  "Well,  we  peaceably  claimed  the  child, 
and  were  denied — asserted  our  rights,  and  were 
mocked — threatened — maledictions ! — and  were  laugh 
ed  at.  All  this,  you  will  admit,  was  enough  to  arouse 
the  indignant  zeal  of  those  who,  like  myself,  were 
interested  in  securing  the  benefit,  and  prosperity,  and 
in  maintaining  the  supremacy  of  our  dear  Mother, 
the  true  and  Holy  Church.  In  that  hour,  Joseph, 
I  solemnly  pledged  myself  to  defeat  these  heretical 
meddlers  at  all  hazards.  The  affair  was  entrusted 
to  me.  For  sixteen  years  I  have  sought  to  obtain 
possession  of  this  girl ;  and  for  sixteen  years,  strange 
as  it  may  seem,  have  all  my  plots  been  successfully 
defeated  by  these  accursed  Protestants.  Such  a  thing 
is  unparalleled  in  the  history  of  the  Church,  and 
I  blush  at  my  ill-success. 

Now,  the  girl  has  completed  the  measure  of  her 
apostacy,  by  publicly  and  openly  renouncing  the 
faith  of  her  ancestors,  and  associating  herself  with 
a  Protestant  community.  "We  have  hitherto  sought 
to  believe,  if  possible,  that  she  was  held  in  re 
straint  ;  but  this  act  of  voluntary  heresy  has  dis 
sipated  every  such  delusion,  though  not  the  hope 


32  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

that  she  maj'  yet  see  her  folly,  and  seek  again  the 
bosom  she  has  stnng." 

The  priest's  words  had  grown  hopefully  soft. 

"  She  is  also,  it  is  whispered,  about  to  marry  a 
Protestant  husband.  0,  but  we  do  owe  these  here 
tics  much!  It  is  to  prevent  the  complete  loss  of 
this  girl,  and  to  save  her  immense  fortune  from 
some  day  passing  into  the  hands  of  these  natural 
enemies  of  our  Church,  that  I  have  solicited  your 
services.  I  did  this  for  two  reasons.  First,  because 
you  were  unknown  in  this  city  ;  and  secondly,  because 
you  must  necessarily  feel  interested  in  a  successful 
issue  to  the  affair.  As  an  humble  citizen,  and  a 
Protestant,  you  can  serve  the  Church  largely.  I 
dare  not  trust  one  who  lives  here  any  longer — 
these  heretics  are  too  lynx-eyed." 

Here  the  priest  paused,  as  if  expecting  me  to  say 
something ;  but  not  perceiving  any  such  intention 
upon  my  part,  he  resumed  his  communication. 

"  The  estate—  should  Madelon  die  without  issue- 
is  left  for  the  sole  benefit  of  the  Church.  To  pre 
vent  her  marriage  must  then  be  one  of  our  prin 
cipal  objects.  Strange  as  it  may  appear,  upon  that 
score,  she  has  hitherto  given  us  no  trouble.  But 
the  character  of  events  is  now  undergoing  a  change, 


The  Jesuit  and  liis  Victim. 


and  we  are  likely  soon  to  have  another  foe  to  en 
counter — who,  however,  I  have  as  yet  been  entirely 
unable  to  discover.  The  heretics  are  suspicious,  and 
keep  his  name  as  profoundly  secret  as  the  grave. 
Sometimes  I  have  almost  been  led  to  doubt  the 
existence  of  a  marriage  project — and  yet  my  informer 
is  reliable.  But  if  it  is  so,  we  must  be  beforehand. 
If  she  marries,  our  chance  becomes  desperate.  To  ob 
tain  possession  of  her  person  is  then  our  principal  ob 
ject — if  defeated  in  that,  we  must  at  least  prevent  the 
marriage,  if  one  is  contemplated.  And  above  all,  we 
must  find  out,  who  this  lover  is — this  heretic,  who 
doubtless  congratulates  himself  upon  his  success  in 
robbing  the  Church  at  once  of  her  servant  and  her 
just  inheritance.  He  must  be  known  to  us,  and  then 
carefully  watched,  Joseph.  Should  he  attempt  to 
bite,  we  must  muzzle  him." 

A  peculiarly  meaning  smile  flitted  across  the  Je 
suit's  dark  and  wrinkled  countenance.  I  could  not 
then,  however,  interpret  it. 

"  But  we  must  be  very  cautious — very  quiet — very 

cat-like,  Brother  Joseph ;  for  this  girl  and  her  heretic 

friends  fed,  if  they  do  not  actually  know,  that  we 

are'  plotting.    A  constant  and  careful  watch  is  kept 

2* 


34  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

over  her  day  and  night ;  and  not  one,  nor  a  half  a 
dozen  only,  are  enlisted  in  her  cause,  hut  a  large  and 
powerful  comhination  of  the  heretics  is  enthusias 
tically  arrayed  against  us.  Were  it  otherwise  she  had 
long  ere  this  been  far  beyond  their  reach.  Under 
ordinary  circumstances  I  should  have  found  no  dif 
ficulty  ;  but  the  excessive  caution  which  these  people 
have  exhibited,  has  been  impenetrable.  Year  after 
year  have  all  my  finest  schemes  crumbled  away  before 
the  superior  cunning  of  these  quick  and  far-seeing 
heretics ;  and  I  have  grown  gray  in  this  unsuccessful 
battle  for  the  Church.  Mark!  I  do  not  grumble, 
except  at  my  ill-success.  It  is  a  pleasure  to  me 
even  to  annoy  the  heretics ;  for  I  hate  them  all,  and 
am  sworn  'in  the  presence  of  Almighty  God,  the 
blessed  Virgin  Mary,  and  all  the  saints  and  hosts 
of  heaven  to  lend  my  aid  and  do  my  utmost  in 
whatever  country  I  shall  be,  to  extirpate  the  here 
tical  Protestant  doctrine,  and  to  destroy  all  their 
pretended  powers,  regal  or  otherwise.' " 

The  priest's  increasing  passion  entirely  carried  him 
away.  It  was  but  for  a  moment,  however ;  when  he 
next  addressed  me  all  traces  of  it  had  vanished. 

His  last  words,  which  were  but  an  embodiment 
of  the  Jesuit's  oath,  left  no  doubt  on  my  mind — 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  35 

I  had  previously  but  conjectured — as  to  his  position 
in  the  Church. 

"I  can  bear  this  humiliation  no  longer,  Joseph!" 
— continued  the  priest  after  a  pause.  "We  must 
have  the  girl.  They  have  already  triumphed  too 
long — too  long.  In  any  other  than  this  land  of  free 
dom  their  temerity  had  long  since  cost  them  their 
lives ;  but  here  the  Church  is  not  yet  omniscient, 
though  it  daily  spreads  and  gains  greater  strength 
— here  there  are  laws  beyond  our  influence — laws 
that  will  effect  us  as  quickly,  and  as  thoroughly, 
as  the  commonest  vagrant  in  the  land.  Therefore 
what  is  done  must  be  done  cautiously ;  and  without 
bungling ;  and  so  secretly  that  the  accursed  heretics 
may  never  be  able  to  discover  the  means  that  we 
employ.  This  is  what  lies  before  us.  "We  under 
stand  each  other,  I  presume  ?"  he  inquired  in  con 
clusion. 

"Undoubtedly!"  I  replied.  "Your  reverence  is 
too  explicit  to  admit  of  any  misapprehension." 

"It  is  needless  then  to  prolong  our  present  con 
ference.  We  have  an  intricate  game  to  play ;  one 
that  will  require  consummate  address  to  carry  us 
successfully  through.  It  is  cunning  opposed  to  cun 
ning — scheme  opposed  to  scheme  ;  and  but  one  trick 


36  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

lost  endangers  the  game.  We  are  but  two,  but  our 
resources  are  inexhaustible.  With  your  help,  my 
good  Joseph, — for  I  have  heard  of  your  ability — I 
feel  confident  of  achieving  a  flattering  triumph. 
And  in  that  hour  your  merit  shall  not  be  over 
looked.  I  have  influence,  and  can  advance  you  in 
the  good  opinion  of  those,  whose  good  will  is  worth 
possessing." 

Little  did  the  priest  imagine  how  indifferent  I 
was  to  such  a  bribe.  He  fancied  me  like  the  rest, 
calculating  and  ambitious.  But  I  was  not  so.  I 
had  entered  upon  the  discharge  of  the  business  on 
which  I  had  been  directed — whatever  it  might  be 
— from  the  same  principle  which  had  always  ac 
tuated  my  conduct  in  everything  pertaining  to  the 
Church — a  sense  of  duty.  And  if  that  duty  was 
not  always  according  to  honesty  or  honor,  I  saw  it 
not  so.  My  eyes  were  yet  to  be  opened. 

"  And  now,  Joseph,  your  hand !"  he  continued, 
rising  from  the  table  ;  "  your  hand !" 

Without  speaking  I  extended  my  right  arm.  The 
Jesuit  clasped  my  hand  firmly,  and  pointing  to  a 
crucifix,  he  said; — 

"For  the  Holy  Church,  and  Christ's  Vicar  Gene 
ral  upon  earth.  May  we  prove  ourselves  worthy 


The   Jesuit  and  Tiis  Victim. 


the  Master  in  whom  we  trust,  and  great  shall  be 
our  reward." 

I  knew  not  then  how  deep  was  that  man's  hy 
pocrisy. 

I  turned  to  depart,  deeming  our  interview  over  ; 
but  the  voice  of  the  Jesuit  arrested  my  feet. 

"  A  moment  longer,  Joseph  !"  he  exclaimed,  turn 
ing  towards  the  massive  book-case  ;  "  we  cannot  part, 
after  our  first  meeting,  at  least,  so  unsociably.  "  A 
generous  smile  spread  over  his  hard  features,  and 
his  voice  mellowed  down  into  the  kindliest  tone. 
"  We  must  drink  success  to  our  common  cause,  and 
confusion  to  all  renegades  and  heretics." 

As  he  uttered  the  last  word  he  reached  down 
from  a  corner  of  one  of  the  upper  shelves,  a  small 
black  bottle,  and  placed  it  before  me. 

"  Drink  !"  said  he  pleasantly  ;  "  and  remember  our 
sentiment." 

I  was  not  accustomed  to  drinking,  and  when  I 
did  indulge,  which  was  not  often,  it  overpowered 
me  quickly.  On  this  occasion,  however,  but  from 
what  cause  I  cannot  imagine,  I  placed  the  bottle 
to  my  lips,  and  took  a  long  draught.  The  Jesuit 
followed  me,  but  drank  sparingly.  He  was  not  an 


38 


intemperate  man,  as  far  too  many  of  our  cloth  were, 
and  are,  and  doubtless,  always  will  be. 

The  Romish  priesthood  generally,  have,  from 
time  immemorial,  been  notoriously  eminent  for 
three  things — a  love  of  eating,  of  drinking,  and  of 
pretty  women.  And  the  great  world  little  knows 
to  what  an  extent  these  appetites  are  indulged. 
People  may  conjecture,  and  conjecture  the  worst ; 
but  even  then  the  reality,  could  they  penetrate 
beneath  the  surface,  would  astonish  and  horrify 
them.  I  have  seen  hundreds  in  whom  the  gratifi 
cation  of  the  sensual  absorbed  every  feeling  of  ho 
nesty,  honor,  and  religion ;  who  were  but  one  re 
move,  and  that  only  in  the  outward  form,  above 
the  beast?  of  the  field. 


The  Jesuit  and  Ms  Victim.  39 


CHAPTER    III. 

FOR  several  days  after  my  arrival  here,  and  sub- 
sequent  to  my  interview  with  the  Jesuit,  which  I 
have  just  described,  I  was  occupied  in  obtaining  a 
better  knowledge  of  localities.  My  perceptions  in 
many  respects  being  quick,  I  soon  became  familiar 
with  the  streets,  and  so  forth.  During  this  period 
I  was,  of  course,  in  constant  communication  with 
Father  Huestace. 

After  advising  me  particularly  of  what  he  ex 
pected  at  my  hands,  he  proffered  many  suggestions 
as  to  my  future  line  of  conduct;  but  still  left  me 
at  liberty  to  adopt  what  measures  I  saw  fit,  so  long 
as  they  were  likely  to  further  the  object  in  view. 
I  was  only  to  watch  Madelon  Hawley,  and  her  friends 
— learn  what  was  being  said  and  done,  and  dis 
cover,  if  possible,  sonn  opportunity  to  trapan  the 


40 


former.  How  I  accomplished  this  was  immaterial 
to  the  priest.  With  this  assurance  I  set  my  wits 
to  work. 

At  that  time  my  mind  was  so  powerfully  imbued 
with  the  infallible  Oneness  of  the  Church,  that 
every  act  perpetrated  in  her  name,  in  my  eyes, 
assumed  the  character  of  a  right.  There  was  no 

Church  but  the   Catholic    Church — no  God  but  her 

? 
God — no    atoning    power    but   what  emanated  from 

her  heart.  So  I  thought.  Do  not  misunderstand 
me.  I  was  not  ignorant,  but  blind ;  my  mental 
vision  was  obscured;  and  only  when  the  Great 
Oculist  touched  my  eyes  could  I  behold  my  delusion. 
But  to  proceed.  From  Father  Huestace  I  under 
stood  that  Madelon  was  residing,  at  that  time,  with 
her  widowed  aunt,  a  Protestant  lady,  who  had  mar 
ried  into  the  family,  and  one  of  those  who  had  been 
mainly  instrumental  in  securing  the  person  of  the 
child  at  her  father's  death.  She  was  a  strong,  shrewd, 
determined  woman.  This,  you  will  remember,  was  in 
the  early  part  of  the  winter.  During  the  summer 
season  Madelon  usually  resided  with  some  other  por 
tion  of  the  family  in  the  country.  The  city  aunt, 
like  her  relatives  generally — for  it  was  a  wealthy  fa 
mily  throughout — was  independent ;  and  consequent- 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  41 

ly  lived  in  a  costly  manner,  and  in  one  of  the  most 
fashionable  quarters  of  the  city.  To  her  residence 
I  finally  directed  my  steps,  having  first  assumed  a 
dress  adapted  to  the  part  I  contemplated  playing. 
I  understood  the  position  of  matters  well  enough 
to  know  that  the  best,  and  almost  only  chance  to  ob 
tain  information,  or  be  of  service,  was  to  get  into  the 
house,  if  possible  ;  for  to  the  general  eye  everything 
was  well  guarded.  From  the  moment  of  her  fathers 
death  the  girl  had  been  watched  and  protected  with 
a  vigilance,  that  only  an  intense  fear  of  violence  and 
wrong  could  have  engendered.  At  home  she  was  ne 
ver  suffered  to  be  alone  with  any  person,  unless  well 
known  ;  and  when  she  went  abroad — to  the  theatre, 
the  concert-room,  the  ball,  or  the  promenade,  she  was 
invariably  accompanied  by  either  her  cousin,  the  son 
of  the  aunt  with  whom  she  resided  ;  by  his  wife,  for 
he  was  married ;  by  both  ;  or  by  the  aunt  herself.  In 
the  country  the  same  unflagging  espionage  was  main 
tained.  The  servants  had  been  thoroughly  sounded 
by  other  emissaries  of  the  crafty  priest,  but  without 
success.  All  of  them  were  Catholic-hating  Protes 
tants  ;  for  Madelon's  relatives  were  far  too  wary  to  re 
ceive  any  others  into  the  house  ;  and  while  some  really 
knew  nothing,  those  who  probably  did,  were  much  too 


42  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

cunning  to  be  played  upon,  and  too  honest  to  enact  the 
traitor.  The  neighbors  had  ^Iso  been  indirectly  tamper 
ed  with;  but  still  the  priest  had  been  unable  to  obtain 
any  information  that  would  assist  him  in  carrying  off 
the  girl.  Thus  was  Madelon  entrenched ;  and  thus  year 
by  year  had  the  priest  schemed  and  schemed  in  vain. 

It  was  under  such  circumstances  that  I  made  my 
first  venture  in  that  ocean  of  dissimulation. 

Mounting  the  lofty  marble  steps,  I  modestly  rang 
the  bell.  A  very  pretty  young  woman,  who  will 
appear  more  prominently  hereafter,  answered  my 
summons.  To  her  I  briefly,  and  in  chosen  terms, 
stated  my  business.  I  was  an  American,  I  said  ;  and 
having  in  vain  sought  more  suitable  employment,  I 
was  induced  to  apply  for  a  situation  as  coachman,  for 
which  position  I  thought  myself  amply  qualified. 
The  times  were  dull,  and  business  difficult  to  obtain. 
The  girl  heard  me  through,  and  seemed  interested  in 
my  appearance ;  still  she  did  not  think — in  fact,  she 
was  certain  that  my  application  would  not  be  success 
ful.  Why  she  thought  so  she  did  not  state.  Had  I 
any  recommendations  ?  Mrs.  Hawley  always  required 
such  assurances  of  former  good  conduct.  I  had  not. 
It  was  unfortunate ;  but  still  she  would  inform  the 
lady.  With  that  she  d  'sappeared. 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  43 

It  may  be  well  enough  to  state  what  induced  me 
to  make  this  application.  My  object  was,  of  course, 
admission  into  the  house ;  and  besides  the  coachmen, 
few  men-servants  were  employed  about  private  es 
tablishments.  Under  such  circumstances  I  had  but 
little  choice.  And  understanding  that  Mrs.  Hawley 
generally  kept  two  coachmen,  and  that  recently  one 
had  left  with  the  view  of  settling  in  the  western 
country,  I  hoped  that  my  statement,  particularly  as 
American  coachmen  were  difficult  to  obtain,  would 
for  once  induce  her  to  break  through  her  hitherto 
undeviating  rule. 

In  a  few  moments  the  girl  returned.  She  was 
sorry,  but  Mrs.  Hawley  never  employed  a  stranger 
about  the  premises.  She  hoped  that  I  would  meet 
with  better  success  elsewhere. 

Not  having  built  much  upon  my  success — though 
failure  in  this  respect  made  my  path  far  more  diffi 
cult — I  was  very  little  astonished.  To  have  admitted 
a  strange  servant  into  the  house  might  have  been 
throwing  the  doors  wide  open  to — death !  And  they 
knew  it — had  ample  reasons  for  knowing  it,  as  I  short 
ly  learned.  Apologizing  for  the  trouble  I  had  occa 
sioned,  I  took  my  leave. 


44 


That  same  evening  Father  Huestace  and  myself 
met  again  in  secret  conference.  A  darker  frown 
gathered  upon  his  always  dark  brow  as  I  related  to 
him  my  first  attempt,  and  the  little  success  that  had 
crowned  my  efforts. 

"Maledictions  on  them! — are  they  invulnerable?" 
he  exclaimed,  and  his  face  suddenly  worked  with 
passion. 

"  I  did  not  expect  much  from  this  !"  I  replied.  u  I 
have,  however,  another  plan  to  suggest.  It  is  very 
plain  that  they  will  not,  by  any  chance  or  mistake, 
admit  a  foreigner  or  a  Catholic  into  the  house.  They 
fear  a  plot  too  much." 

"And— with — reason!"  muttered  the  Jesuit,  fixing 
his  dark  eyes  upon  me,  and  speaking  with  measured 
slowness.  "  Hark  you,  Joseph !  for  it  is  proper  that  you 
should  know  all,  so  that  you  may  be  the  better  pre 
pared  for  any  emergency  that  may  arise.  Shortly  after 
the  death  of  Madelon's  father— some  twelve  months,  I 
think — and  while  yet  my  hatred  for  the  accursed 
heretics  who  had  stolen  her  was  still  burning  fiercely, 
an  attempt  was  made  by  one  of  the  house-servants, 
an  ignorant  Irish  woman,  to  poison  the  child.  They 
were  not  then  so  suspicious  as  afterwards ;  nor  so  par 
ticular  in  the  selection  of  their  menials.  The  bun- 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  45 

gling  woman,  however,  performed  the  job  so  badly, 
that  the  presence  of  the  drug  was  detected  in  time 
to  save  Madelon's  life.  You  wonder !  but  at  that  mo 
ment  I  had  the  heart  to  kill  them  all,  whether  the 
act  were  wise  or  not.  But  let  that  pass.  The  un 
fortunate  conclusion  of  the  affair  placed  me  in  a 
rather  critical  position,  for  the  crime  was  easily  fixed 
upon  the  girl,  and  I  feared  that  in  her  ignorance  and 
fright  she  might  inadvertently  implicate  me.  '  Dead 
men  tell  no  tales,'  Joseph  ;  nor  do  dead  women  either. 
The  woman  disappeared  very  suddenly — her  where 
abouts  was  never  discovered ;  and  though  I  was  sus 
pected  by  the  heretics  of  being  the  head  and  front  of 
the  whole  transaction,  they  could  not  prove  any 
thing  against  me,  and  so  dare  not  openly  accuse  me. 
Since  then,  however,  they  have  feared,  and  shunned, 
all  foreigners — Catholics  especially.  For  a  long  pe 
riod  after  I  remained  perfectly  passive  in  the  hope 
of  allaying  their  suspicions.  But,  you  perceive,  it 
has  all  been  in  vain." 

"But  the  woman!  what  became  of  her?"  I  inquir 
ed  with  a  shudder. 

"Out  yonder,"  said  the  Jesuit,  pointing  through  a 

small  window  into  the  sombre  looking  graveyard, — 

in  an  obscure  corner  is  a  nameless  grave — 'tis  her's, 


46 


The  death  Madelon  escaped,  she  died ;  and  here  too 
in  this  very  room." 

I  glanced  over  my  shoulder  nervously,  almost  ex 
pecting  to  behold  the  ghost  of  the  murdered  -woman 
gazing  in  at  the  window.  The  voice  of  the  priest  re 
called  me.  He  continued ; — 

"To  me — her  priest — she  hastened,  wild  with  fright, 
for  absolution  and  protection.  I  gave  her  both — full 
forgiveness,  and  eternal  protection — the  protection  of 
the  grave.  Did  I  not  do  right  ?" 

Hardly  knowing  what  I  replied,  for  I  was  excessive 
ly  confused,  I  stammered  forth  'Yes.' 

"My  safety — my  power," — he  still  continued — "and 
the  position  of  the  Church  demanded  her  death.  With 
my  own  hands  I  administered  the  potent  drug.  She 
did  not  suspect  me,  and  drank  it.  Five  minutes  after, 
her  wri things,  and  torturings,  and  groanings,were  over. 
One  whom  I  could  trust  buried  her  out  there,  before 
morning.  The  curtain  of  night  hid  us  from  the  eyes 
of  the  world,  and  all  went  well.  There  was  a  wonder 
at  her  absence — some  little  inquiry  by  the  authori 
ties,  and  the  thing  was  dropped." 

The  priest  paused ;  and  a  silence  of  several  mcr 
ments  brooded  over  the  room.  He  did  not  seem  to 
be  at  all  disturbed  ;  but  my  heart  beat  quick  with  a 


T/ie  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  47 

great  inward  dread ;  for  murder  is  murder,  gloss  it 
over  as  men  may. 

"  But  you  were  about  making  a  suggestion,  Joseph !" 
lie  continued,  turning  the  conversation  and  speaking 
quite  calmly.  "  Continue  !" 

It  was  only  with  a  strong  effort  that  I  resumed  my 
usual  manner,  and  managed  to  say  that  I  had  contem 
plated  seeking  employment  in  some  other  Protestant 
family  in  the  immediate  neighborhood  of  Mrs.  Haw- 
ley's  residence  ;  by  that  means — as  it  was  unquestion 
ably  impossible  to  establish  a  footing  in  the  house — 
I  should  better  be  enabled  to  keep  watch  upon  all 
that  was  transpiring,  and  probably  succeed  in  gaining 
some  practical  information. 

The  Jesuit  contracted  his  brow  in  thought. 

"It  is  tedious  work,"  he  said  ;  "and  yet  appears  to 
be  the  only  feasible  plan.  The  law — the  accursed 
law,  Joseph,  holds  us  its  slaves.  Precipitation  might 
fasten  us  in  its  meshes ;  and  then  would  follow  expo 
sure  and  ruin — perhaps  worse.  Like  the  mole,  we 
must  burrow  our  way  along  in  the  dark.  Information 
we  must  have,  and  the  clearest  way  to  obtain  it  is  in 
the  manner  you  suggest.  But  I  fear  that  even  to  reach 
that  point  you  will  be  compelled  to  carry  a  Protestant 
recommendation  in  your  pocket,  for  these  heretics 


48  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

are  daily  becoming  more  suspicious.  Some  already 
cry  out  openly  against  us,  and  bid  their  fellows  be 
ware.  But  the  time  is  not  yet  ripe,  Joseph,  and  we 
must  not  chafe  them.  "We  might  forge  the  paper,  it 
is  true  ;  but  the  pen  is  too  frequently  a  cheat,  and  be 
trays  to  destruction.  I'll  have  none  of  it.  There  must 
be  nothing  that  can  rise  up  against  us.  To-morrow 
carry  out  your  suggestion ;  and  if  it  prove  unsuccess 
ful,  we  must  speedily  adopt  some  other  plan.  The  girl 
must  be  secured !" 

The  Jesuit's  emphatic  words,  and  heavy  brow  sud 
denly  assumed,  to  me,  a  more  portentous  aspect.  All 
that  he  had  not  said,  my  busy  brain  began  to  conjec 
ture.  He  had  once,  by  his  own  confession,  attempted 
the  life  of  this  girl,  and  from  private  pique  more  than 
anything  else ;  might  he  not,  should  circumstances 
arise,  do  so  again?  I  was  willing  to  lend  my  assis 
tance  in  saving  Madelon  from  her  heresy,  and  pre 
venting  the  Church  from  being  robbed ;  but  I  never 
had,  and  could  not  then,  make  up  my  mind  to  the  com 
mission  of  a  murder.  I  resolved  to  sound  him,  if  that 
were  possible.  With  that  view  I  propounded  an  art 
fully  contrived  question,  in  which  I  hinted  at  the  pro 
bable  fate  of  Madelon,  when  she  should  be  in  his 
charge.  The  priest  seemed  to  understand  what  was 


The  Jesuit  and  Ms  Victim.  49 

passing-  in  my  mind,  and  doubtless  shaped  his  answer 
in  accordance.  He  did  not  intend  her  any  harm,  he 
said ;  to  that  he  would  be  willing  to  pledge  himself 
if  needful ;  he  but  looked  forward  to  the  advancement 
of  that  faith  in  the  defence  of  which  he  had  spent  his 
life.  It  was  toot  Madelon's  life  he  coveted — it  was 
her  soul.  True,  he  had  once,  in  a  moment  of  deep 
disappointment  and  rage  attempted  to  deprive  her  of 
the  former ;  but  that  was  long  past,  together  with  the 
feelings  that  prompted  it.  Madelon  once  in  his  power, 
would  be  entirely  safe,  and  should  be  properly  cared 
for.  That  he  would  promise. 

Thus  that  man  heaped  lie  upon  lie,  and  even  blind 
ed  me  with  his  well-chosen  terms.  I  did  not  see 
how  he  was  gradually  subduing  me  to  his  purpose — 
how  he  was  coiling  himself  around  my  very  being. 

Every  interview  between  the  priest  and  myself  de 
veloped  more  fully  the  hidden  springs  of  his  life. 
Thus,  in  the  one  I  have  just  described  he  confessed 
himself  a  murderer,  but  justified  the  deed  by  the  exi 
gency  of  the  occasion,  and  the  revelations  involved. 
And  though  I  shuddered  at  the  dark  recital,  I  was  not 
prepared  to  deny  the  truth  of  what  he  asserted.  I 
still  thought — "there  is  no  God  but  my  God!" 

The  succeeding  day  I  was  early  abroad.    According 


50  Madelon  Haivley,  or 

to  what  I  had  contemplated  I  applied  to  nearly  every 
Protestant  family  residing  in  the  vicinity  of  Mrs.  Haw- 
ley's  residence,  but  without  meeting  with  the  least  suc 
cess.  I  offered  myself  in  any  capacity — but  somehow 
the  chances  appeared,  for  a  long  while,  to  be  against 
me.  Many  were  not  in  want  of  male-servants,  being 
supplied  with  all  that  were  necessary ;  while  several 
who  were,  could  not  think  of  receiving  me  into  their 
service,  without  a  written  recommendation  from  some 
reliable  person  who  was  acquainted  with  my  character. 
I  began  to  think  the  priest's  assertion  really  correct. 
At  the  eleventh  hour,  however,  I  happened  upon  a 
hale  and  rosy  old  gentleman  named  Ellis ;  upon  whose 
pleasant  face  there  rested  the  light  of  an  everlasting 
smile,  and  in  whose  voice  there  was  the  music  of  a 
heart  all  at  peace  with  itself;  a  man  whose  life  had 
been  spent  in  doing  good,  and  who  believed  all  men 
as  honest  as  himself.  He  had  thought  of  employing 
a  sort  of  secretary  and  collector —  he  liked  my  unas 
suming  and  genteel  appearance — pitied  the  ill-luck 
that  could  reduce  one  so  evidently  intended  for  higher 
purposes,  and  would  employ  me,  if  I  liked  to  accept, 
upon  my  own  recommendation.  The  credulous  old 
man  played  the  traitor  to  himself;  but  I  had  gained 
my  object.  Of  course  I  accepted,  and  forthwith  was 


The  Jesuit  and  Ms  Victim.  51 

installed  in  my  new  position.  Little  did  the  good 
gentleman  imagine  that  he  harbored  a  spy. 

In  a  very  brief  period  I  contrived  to  make  the  ac 
quaintance  of  the  upper  domestics  in  the  house  of 
Mrs.  Hawley — all,  with  the  exception  of  the  butler 
and  coachman,  females.  My  manners  were  rather 
pleasing  and  my  condescension — I  was  Mr.  Ellis'  secre 
tary,  you  will  remember — properly  appreciated  ;  con 
sequently  I  was  not  long  ingratiating  myself  into  their 
esteem.  With  all  I  assumed  to  be  very  free,  very  un 
reserved,  and  very  much  opposed  to  the  Catholic  re 
ligion,  and  Papists  generally.  That  pleased  them 
hugely,  for  they  thoroughly  abominated  the  Romanists, 

I  soon  grew  to  be  a  favorite  ;  particularly  with  one 
Winnie,  an  extremely  handsome,  and  rather  intelligent 
young  girl — Madelon's  dressing-maid  and  demi-com- 
panion.  The  same,  you  will  remember,  who  replied 
to  my  summons,  when  I  had  the  effrontery  a  few  days 
previous,  to  apply  directly  to  Mrs.  Hawley  for  employ 
ment.  Her  close  attendance  upon  Madelon  made  me 
especially  anxious  to  cultivate  her  friendship — if 
possible,  her  confidence.  Women  generally  are  rather 
weak-minded  ;  and  therein  I  fancied  would  prove  an 
opening  to  the  citadel.  Through  the  maid  I  might 


52 


some  day  reach  the  mistress.  With  that  thought  in 
view  I  labored  hard  to  secure  the  girl's  good  opinion. 

Thus  passed  several  weeks,  to  all  appearance  most 
unprofitably.  Father  Huestace,  in  the  mean  time, 
was  growing  more  and  more  impatient — more  and 
more  ungovernable  in  his  desire  to  possess  Madelon, 
and  to  triumph  over  those,  who  had  so  long  triumph 
ed  over  him.  He  could  scarcely  wait  for  the  accom 
plishment  of  those  details  which  were  absolutely 
necessary  to  any  degree  of  success.  Cool,  cunning, 
calculating,  he  yet  chafed  at  a  restraint  which  his 
own  judgment  should  have  taught  him  was  not  un 
reasonable.  Much  was  to  be  done,  on  my  part — much 
information,  which  required  a  certain  coaxing,  ob 
tained,  before  anything  could  be  attempted.  And 
yet  the  Jesuit,  in  his  selfish  eagerness,  gave  me  no 
credit  for  the  patient  perseverance  with  which  I  pro 
secuted  my  part  of  the  enterprise. 

You  will  perceive,  however,  what  the  Jesuit  would 
not — that  much  time  had  necessarily  to  be  expended 
in  making  acquaintance — in  obtaining  a  proper  footing 
with  those  who  were  likely  to  subserve  my  purpose ; 
and  in  the  various  other  minutia3  which  the  pecu 
liarity  of  my  object  imperiously  demanded.  To  this 
climax  matters  had  then  arrived. 


The  Jesuit  and  Jiis  Victim.  53 

I  see  you  wonder  that  I  have  not  spoken  of  Miss 
Hawley's  personal  appearance ;  feeling,  as  you  doubt 
less  do,  that  during  the  time  past  I  must  have  fre 
quently  seen  her.  My  reason  is  simple.  I  have  felt 
the  task  beyond  my  powers  ;  for  her's  was  a  beauty 
that  is  almost  indescribable.  A  Hebe  in  loveliness — 
an  angel  in  goodness,  was  Madelon  Hawley.  What 
more  need  I  say  ?  Shall  I  vainly  endeavor  to  portray 
the  shining  purity  of  "her  complexion;  the  soft  lustre 
of  her  great  black  eyes  ;  the  queenly  redundance  of 
her  raven  ringlets,  and  the  voluptuousness  of  her 
flowing  and  graceful  form?  It  would  indeed  be  a 
vain  task,  for.  Ah ! 

"Her's  was  the  beauty  that  though  seen  but  once, 
Dwells  long  within  the  memory,  like  a  strain 
Of  sad  sweet  music  that  will  linger  oft, 
When  the  light  hand  that  waked  the  cord  lies  low, 
And  moulders  in  the  dust." 

It  is  useless  to  describe  how  I  watched  the  house 
which  contained  the  apostate  girl — how  I  lingered 
day  after  day  around  the  premises — how  I  followed 
Madelon  and  her  friends,  on  every  suitable  oppor 
tunity — how  I  finally  ventured  to  tamper  with  the 
domestics ;  and  how,  through  all,  I  endeavored  to 
console  myself  with  the  poor  reflection  that  the 
Church  had  an  unbounded  right  alike  to  life  and 


54  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

limb — to  all  property  in  those  who  cherished  her 
saving  grace.  I  was  watchful,  vigilant,  quick;  but 
still  I  made  no  apparent  progress,  and  my  master 
— for  the  Jesuit  had,  to  all  intents  and  purposes, 
become  my  master — began  almost  to  question  my 
ability  to  assist  him.  I  could  see  it  in  his  con 
tracted  brow,  and  compressed  lips.  But  I  could  not 
manufacture  opportunities ;  and  though  now  well 
established  with  the  majority  of  Mrs.  Hawley's 
household,  I  might  as  well  not  have  been,  for  all 
the  definite  or  useful  information  that  I  was  able 
to  obtain.  I  never  met  with  a  number  of  people 
more  united  in  their  secresy — more  completely  in 
vulnerable.  From  the  mistress  in  the  parlor,  to  the 
scullion  in  the  kitchen,  they  were  as  a  sealed  book. 
These  things  taken  in  consideration,  Father  Huestace 
had  little  occasion  to  reflect  on  me. 

All  Madelon's  excursions  abroad,  as  far  as  I  could 
discover,  were  invariably  made  in  company  with 
others ;  and  neither  gave  any  clue  to  what  was 
transpiring,  or  afforded  the  slightest  opportunity  of 
securing  her  person.  Doubtless  they  still  retained  a 
vivid  recollection  of  the  attempt  which  had,  years 
before,  been  made  upon  the  IMe  of  their  charge 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  55 


CHAP  TEE    IV. 

THE  Jesuit  and  myself,  you  perceive,  were  in  the 
habit  of  meeting  daily ;  the  impatient  priest  being 
too  much  on  the  tenter  hooks  to  remain  long  un 
acquainted  with  my  proceedings.  The  disappoint 
ment  of  sixteen  years  had  made  him  unnaturally 
anxious  upon  this  subject.  He  fancied  the  long- 
coveted  prize  within  his  grasp,  and  with  difficulty 
could  endure  the  delay  of  a  few  weeks.  In  one  in 
stance  at  least — the  adventure  which  I  am  about  de 
scribing — his  impatience,  in  my  opinion,  far  overleap 
ed  his  discretion.  The  ill-success  which  had  so  far 
attended  all  my  efforts  to  obtain  real  practical  in 
formation  chafed  his  hard  and  passionate  spirit  al 
most  beyond  endurance,  and  he  was  not  slow  in  ex 
pressing  his  chagrin.  Frequently  would  he  jump  up 
from  his  seat,  as  I  recounted  to  him  my  continued 
discomfiture,  and  exclaim  bitterly ; — 


56  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

"  Maledictions !  shall  this  apostate  girl,  and '  her 
heretic  allies  be  forever  triumphant?  Is  the  Church 
become  impotent  and  powerless,  or  are  her  enemies 
mightier  than  they  were  centuries  since  ?  Joseph !'' — 
he  continued  very  abruptly,  one  morning  about  this 
time,  pausing  in  his  violent  tramping  up  and  down 
the  room,  and  facing  me — "  Joseph,  something  must 
be  done — we  must  make  a  venture.  Days  and  weeks 
pass  away,  and  yet  we  accomplish  absolutely  nothing. 
We  plot,  and  plot,  and  yet  our  ploiting  never  reaches 
a  focus.  We  must  make  a  venture,  I  say !" 

"I  have  done  all  that  man  could  do  under  the  cir 
cumstances,"  I  replied.  "Environed  as  we  are,  aught 
but  the  extremest  caution  would  prove  our  complete 
destruction.  As  I  tell  your  reverence,  I  have  done  my 
best," 

"Doubtless,  my  good  Joseph,  doubtless!"  rejoined 
the  crafty  Jesuit.  "  But  still  I  weary  at  this  continued 
procrastination.  Something  must  be  done,  forthwith !" 

"But  what?"  I  inquired,  satisfied  that  the  priest 
had  some  scheme  working  in  his  brain. 

"  I  have  been  reflecting  upon  a  plan  which  may  suc 
ceed,  and  you  know,  Joseph,  we  have  no  real  certainty 
in  any  one  thing  that  we  undertake.  Should  it  fail, 
if  managed  properly,  it  cannot  involve  us.  Listen ! 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  57 

You  have  been  long  enough  in  this  city  to  have  seen 
that  a  great  degree  of  noise  and  confusion  prevails 
at  the  scene  of  a  fire.  My  plan  is  simply  this,  and  it 
is  more  feasible  than  at  a  first  glance  it  would  appear. 
•We  can  fire  the  house  in  which  Madelon  resides,  and 
in  the  consequent  confusion  we  may — there  is  at  least 
a  great  chance— secure  the  girl." 

I  looked  up  at  the  Jesuit  astonished ;  the  utter  reck 
lessness  of  the  proposition  almost,  at  first,  startling 
me  from  my  propriety.  By  dwelling  upon  the  sug 
gestion,  however,  it  gradually  became  more  familiar — 
less  amazing. 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence,  and  we  two  men 
sat  gazing  fixedly  at  each  other. 

"  Admit  every  chance  there  may  be ;"  I  at  length 
replied  slowly ;  "  who  will  set  the  conflagration  ?" 

"  You  will,  my  good  Joseph,  when  once  you  are  con 
vinced  that  the  deed  is  lawful,  and  that  the  Church 
demands  and  expects  such  acts  of  obedience  at  your 
hands!"  he  rejoined  distinctly  and  firmly. 

I  did  not  reply;  but  already  my  bigotry  was  beat 
ing  responsive  to  what  the  Jesuit  said — already  I  be 
gan  to  feel  it  my  duty.  Strange— strange  infatuation- 

"Reflect,  Joseph, reflect!"  he  continued,  penetrating 
my  hesitation.  "We  are  but  executing  the  obligations 


58  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

which  we  voluntarily  assumed — but  fighting  the  good 
fight  the  Holy  Church  enjoins  upon  all  her  children, 
high  and  low.  This  is  essentially  our  duty — one 
which  there  is  no  evading,  no  tampering  with,  no 
putting  off.  We  are  authorized  and  instructed  to  ex 
tirpate  the  enemies  of  the  Church  in  whatever  land 
we  may  be — as  well  here  as  in  the  papal  dominions. 
Besides,  no  serious  damage  is  likely  to  result  from  this 
attempt — nothing  further,  at  least,  than  the  mere 
burning  of  the  building  and  furniture,  which  a  little 
of  their  surplus  gold  will  easily  and  quickly  replace. 
It  can  be  done  at  such  an  hour — neither  too  early  nor 
too  late — that  the  inmates  can  all  safely  escape.  In 
fact  I  should  not  wish  it  otherwise.  It  is  not  their 
lives  I  seek;  only  the  possession  of  this  mis-led  girl." 

"But  how  can  it  be  done?"  I  again  inquired,  more 
than  half  convinced  by  the  Jesuit's  specious  argu 
ments. 

"How?  my  good  Joseph,"  rejoined  the  Jesuit,  lifting 
his  eye-brows  with  a  glance  of  astonishment.  "How? 
Do  you  ask  that  simple  question  ?  /  could  scarcely 
Have  mingled  so  much  with  these  people  as  you  have, 
without  being  familiar  enough  with  the  premises  to 
enter  them  at  anv  time.  Think  it  over  a  few  mo 
ments,  my  good  Joseph." 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  59 

There  was  another  slight  pause  in  our  conversation 

"  Well,  Joseph !"  said  the  Jesuit,  breaking  the  si 
lence  ;  "what  is  the  result?" 

"  I  think," — I  began,  carried  away  by  the  priest's 
manner  and  my  own  convictions ;  "that  the  building 
could  be  entered  through  the  back  way,  provided  the 
servants  were  either  out  or  abed,  and  the  family  also 
retired."  My  answer,  you  perceive,  implied  obedience 
to  his  suggestion. 

"  That  is  a  risk,  Joseph,  we  must  necessarily  run ;" 
broke  in  Father  Huestace. 

After  a  pause  I  continued,  all  my  scruples,  for  the 
moment,. vanished ; — 

"The  yards  of  these  houses,  as  your  reverence  well 
knows,  extend  to  an  alley  on  the  rear,  and  facing  the 
alley  are  the  carriage-houses  of  the  various  establish 
ments.  I  have  frequently  been  in  the  one  attached 
to  the  residence  of  Mrs.  Hawley,  having  become  quite 
a  favorite  with  the  coachman,  from  so  heartily  admir 
ing  his  horses  and  vehicles. 

"The  very  thing,  Joseph!"  the  Jesuit  exclaimed. 
"Through  the  carriage-house  you  can  readily  pene 
trate  to  the  mansion.  It  wants  but  the  effort,  I  know. 
Now  go  your  way,  and  return  here  early  this  evening. 
In  the  mean  time  I  will  work  out  all  the  particulars, 


60  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

and  provide  everything  that  is  necessary  for  the  fur 
therance  of  our  contemplated  adventure." 

This  interview  occurred  during  the  forenoon  of  a 
cold  day  in  the  beginning  of  January. 

With  the  setting  of  the  sun  that  same  day  there 
sprang  up  a  slight  wind.  At  first  it  but  soughed  up 
and  down  the  streets,  and  moaned  round  the  corners 
with  a  soft  wailing  sound ;  but  as  daylight  deepened 
into  darkness  its  force  increased ;  and  as  night's  black 
pall  settled  over  the  city,  it  shrieked,  and  yelled,  and 
tore,  with  all  the  wildness  and  madness  of  a  hurricane. 
It  was  an  unusual  blow,  and  people  looked  aghast 
with  terror.  The  streets  were  soon  deserted,  for  it 
was  dangerous,  from  falling  objects,  to  be  abroad.  Bu 
siness  and  pleasure  were  foregone,  and  few  ventured 
forth,  save  upon  some  compulsory  mission.  It  was  a 
night  long  to  be  remembered. 

Notwithstanding  the  danger  and  the  horror  that 
prevailed  everywhere  out  of  doors,  some  irresistible 
influence,  above  and  beyond  our  simple  engagement, 
directed  my  steps  towards  the  habitation  of  the  Jesuit. 

"Ah,  my  good  Joseph  !"  he  exclaimed,  as  I  entered 
the  library  and  joined  him.  "What  a  night!  The 
wind  blows  as  if  it  would  uproot  the  very  foundations 
of  the  earth." 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  61 

"A  fearful  night!"  I  responded,  as  a  terrible  blast 
of  wind  encircled  the  house,  and  seemed  to  shake  even 
its  firm  walls. 

"Yes,  terrible  indeed," — rejoined  the  Jesuit,  draw 
ing  close  to  my  side;  "but  admirable  for  our  purpose, 
Joseph.  Inquisitive  people  will  be  compelled  to  keep 
within  doors.  But  time  flies,"  he  continued,  striking 
the  hour  upon  his  jewelled  watch ;  "'tis  nine  o'clock — 

by  ten  we  must  be  in  the  vicinity  of Square. 

The  condition  of  the  weather  will  induce  people  to 
seek  their  beds  at  an  earlier  hour  than  usual.  Here, 
take  a  glass  of  this" — the  black  bottle  and  a  tumbler 
stood  upon  the  table — "and  then  to  business." 

While  I  was  following  his  directions  concerning 
the  black  bottle,  the  Jesuit  'knolt  down  upon  the  floor, 
and  unlocked  a  small  double  door  in  the  bottom  of 
the  book-case.  From  within  he  soon  extracted  a  bun 
dle,  with  which  he  arose  to  his  feet. 

"Here  are  disguises !''  caidhe.  "It  is  only  now  neces 
sary  that  we  should  black  our  hands  and  faces  to  pass  for 
veritable  woolly  heads.  On  with  the  toggery,  Joseph !" 

In  a  little  time  we  were  completely  metamorphosed 
—changed — transformed  into  the  dingiest  black-a- 
moors.  Human  eye  could  scarcely  have  penetrated 
our  disguise  -  it  was  so  thorough. 


62  Madelon  Haiuley,  or 

"And  now,  Joseph,  for  the  balance  of  our  equip 
ments,"  the  Jesuit  said,  again  stooping  down  in 
front  of  the  book-case.  "Here  are  some  combus 
tible  materials,  which  I  have  prepared,  together 
with  some  matches,  and  a  bottle  of  spirits,  to  help 
in  igniting  the  fire.  Here,  too,  is  an  iron  wedge, 
which  may  be  of  service  in  opening  an  unyielding 
door.  Put  them  in  your  pockets — you  will  find  them 
capacious — and  then  let  us  on." 

"  But  should  we  be  detected,  what  then  ?"  I  in 
quired,  with  some  slight  misgivings. 

"  But  we  must  not  be  detected,  Joseph !"  the  priest 
rejoined,  with  confidence.  "  Think  not  of  such  an 
issue — harbor  not  such  a  thought.  Now  unlock  the 
door — here  is  the  key — and  step  into  the  hall." 

I  immediately  complied  with  his  directions.  As 
soon  as  I  was  outside,  he  proceeded  to  arrange  a  small 
night-lamp  and  matches  upon  the  table,  so  as  to  be 
ready  at  hand  when  he  should  return ;  then  extin 
guishing  the  swinging  lamp,  and  groping  his  way  to 
the  entrance,  he  soon  emerged  into  the  hall,  locking 
the  door  after  him. 

"  Come  along,  Joseph !"  he  exclaimed,  seizing  me 
by  the  arm,  and  bending  his  steps  towards  the  front 
of  the  house. 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  63 

Once  in  the  street,  we  hastily  wended  our  way  to 
wards  Square.  The  wind  had  subsided  somewhat 

by  this  time,  though  it  was  still  blowing  roughly. 

Just  as  we  reached Square,  the  various  clocks  of 

the  city  pealed  forth  the  hour  of  ten.  We  passed 
quickly  through  the  fashionable  locality,  merely 
pausing  long  enough  to  listen  at  the  windows  of 
Mrs.  Hawley's  residence,  to  ascertain  if  any  of  the 
family  were  still  stirring.  The  absence  of  any  lights 
betokened  that  the  family  had  retired. 

"All  a-bed,  Joseph,  but  doubtless  not  asleep," — 
whispered  Father  Huestace.  "  They  cannot  have  re 
tired  long.  This  way,  now." 

The  Jesuit  still  kept  the  lead.  After  traversing 
some  two  or  three  squares  in  a  circle,  we  arrived  at 
the  rear  of  Mrs.  Hawley's  mansion.  We  now  stood 
in  front  of  the  carriage-house  belonging  to  the  pre 
mises. 

"Now,  Joseph," — said  Father  Huestace,  "I  resign 
to  you.  But  let  your  movements  be  as  quick  as  they 
must  be  cautious.  Have  you  reflected  ?  If  so,  what 
now  do  you  purpose  doing  ?" 

"  Stand  close  to  the  wall,  your  reverence," — I  whis 
pered  in  reply,  "so  that  I  may  mount  upon  your 
shoulders  to  the  second  story  windows.  It  is  in  that 


64  Madelon  Hawkey,  or 

way  that  I  must  get  in.     I  know  that  they  are  never 
locked." 

Suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  I  placed  the  Jesuit 
with  his  face  close  against  the  wall — mounted  upon 
his  broad  shoulders — raised  the  window,  and  drew 
myself  into  the  room.  Cautioning  the  priest  to  re 
main  where  he  was,  so  that  he  might  give  me 
warning  in  case  of  danger,  and  assist  me  in  making 
my  exit.  I  groped  my  way  across  the  room  and 
descended  the  steps  into  the  lower  apartment. 
From  thence  I  passed  out  into  the  yard ;  and  final 
ly  crawled  along  in  the  shadow  of  the  walls  until 
I  reached  the  Lack  of  the  house.  Here  I  paused 
for  awhile  to  think  what  next  I  should  do,  and  to 
listen  whether  any  one  was  stirring.  All,  however, 
was  quiet;  no  sound  disturbed  the  silence  of  the 
night  — nothing  save  the  surging  of  the  wind,  and 
the  creaking  of  the  window-shutters. 

From  the  first  floor  of  the  portly  mansion,  which 
was  elevated  some  five  feet  above  the  level  of  the 
ground,  projected  a  balcony.  Beneath  this,  front 
and  back,  were  small  flights  of  steps  leading  into 
the  basements  and  cellars.  Down  those  near  which 
I  was  standing  I  quickly  descended,  and  placed  my 
ear  to  the  door — there  was  no  key-hole — to  listen. 


The   Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  65 

All  was  silent  as  the  grave.  I  listened  some  mo 
ments,  and  then  knocked  slightly.  There  was  no 
response — no  movement.  Withdrawing  the  iron  bar 
from  my  pocket,  which  the  Jesuit  had  wisely  pro 
vided  me  with,  I  placed  it  between  the  door  and 
the  jam,  and  soon  pried  the  former  open,  and  with 
but  slight  noise.  What  I  did  make,  if  heard,  was 
doubtless  attributed  to  the  wind,  and  thought  no 
thing  of. 

Within  the  apartment,  which  was  a  wood  cellar, 
all  was  still  and  dark.  Beyond  was  the  servants' 
hall.  Quietly  I  groped  my  way  across  the  former, 
and  at  length  succeeded  in  finding  the  door  of 
communication  with  the  latter.  I  listened  again. 
All  continued  painfully  still. 

After  some  further  groping  around  I  managed  to 
find  the  bin  which  contained  the  shavings,  and  other 
light  materials  used  in  manufacturing  fires.  Quick 
ly  scattering  the  fluid  contained  in  the  bottle  over 
these,  and  placing  the  other  combustible  materials 
I  had  about  me  in  the  best  situation  for  burning, 
I  struck  a  light,  and  kindled  the  fire. 

A  moment  sufficed  to  convince  me  of  the  impos 
sibility  of  easily  extinguishing  the  flames ;  and  then 
I  glided  from  the  cellar  into  the  yard,  closing  the 


66 


door  behind  me.  Noiselessly  as  a  cat  I  again  crept 
along  close  to  the  wall,  reaching  the  carriage-house 
in  safety,  and  passing  up-stairs  and  out  of  the  win 
dow  upon  the  Jesuit's  shoulders,  without,  apparently, 
creating  the  least  alarm. 

"  The  word,  Joseph,  the  word  ?"  whispered  the 
priest,  anxiously.  "  Is  it  done  ?" 

"Yes!"  I  muttered,  more  than  half  frightened  at 
the  incendiary  act  which  I  had  committed.  "Let 
us  get  away  for  awhile." 

With  hasty  steps  we  quitted  the  vicinity,  and  for 
some  half  hour  continued  to  wander  around,  anx 
iously  expecting  the  conflagration. 

At  length  a  lurid  light  shot  up  athwart  the 
darkened  sky,  and  arrested  our  attention.  As  if 
each  comprehended  the  other's  thoughts,  we  simul 
taneously  directed  our  steps  towards Square. 

The  scene  which  met  our  gaze  was  one  of  un 
paralleled  consternation  and  confusion.  The  fire 
had  obtained  good  head-way,  and  aided  by  the 
high  winds,  the  flames  were  already  spreading  with 
furious  rapidity.  Vast  volumes  of  thick  black 
smoke,  through  which  shot  streaks  of  livid  fire, 
were  belching  forth  from  several  windows;  while 
the  roaring  of  the  flames,  the  whistling  of  the 


The  Jesuit  and  Ms  Victim. 


wind,  and  the  shouts  of  the  assembled  crowd  —  for 
already  the  street  was  full  of  people  —  rendered  the 
scene  at  once  startling  and  terrible.  Every  moment 
the  crowd  became  denser,  and  the  excitement  more 
intense.  Soon  the  booming  of  the  heavy  alarm-bells 
added  to  the  confusion,  and  startled  the  city  from  its 
propriety. 

Father  Huestace  and  myself  took  up  a  position 
close  to  the  burning  mansion.  For  several  moments 
we  stood  intently  watching  the  doomed  house. 

"  Can  they  have  already  escaped  from  the  build 
ing  ?"  the  priest  at  length  whispered  in  my  ear. 

"  I  think  not,"  I  wyhispered  back.  "  The  fire  can 
not  have  been  discovered  long,  and  is  only  now  mak 
ing  its  way  into  the  front  of  the  house.  Look  !"  I 
continued,  as  my  attention  was  arrested  by  the  appear 
ance  of  several  females,  who  were  emerging  from 
the  front-door,  all  evidently  in  a  high  state  of  excite 
ment. 

"  I  see  !"  said  the  Jesuit.  h  Yonder  is  Made- 
Ion  ;  and  notwithstanding  their  evident  alarm, 
they  are  yet  cautious  enough  to  keep  the  girl  sur 
rounded.  Maledictions  on  them  !  —  their  presence 
of  mind  is  astonishing.  We  cannot  reach  her 
now,  Joseph  ;  we  must  watch  whither  they  go,  and 


68  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

then  decoy  her  hence.  Let  us  follow.  Carefully 
now." 

Cautiously  threading  our  way  through  the  crowd, 
we  watched  the  retreating  women,  until  they  entered 
a  neighboring  mansion,  some  half  dozen  doors  off. 
Young  Hawley,  who  accompanied  them,  then  turned 
and  retraced  his  steps  towards  the  burning  house. 

"  Now  is  our  time,"  said  the  Jesuit.  "  Mrs.  Haw 
ley,  and  her  household,  are  in  such  a  state  of  excite 
ment  that  we  shall  be  able  to  accomplish  what  other 
wise  we  could  not.  My  plan  is  this,  and  a  little  spirit 
will  render  our  trick  eminently  successful.  You  shall 
entice  Mrs.  Hawley  and  her  daughter-in-law  away 
from  the  house  where  they  have  taken  refuge  by  stat 
ing  that  young  Hawley  has  been  severely  injured,  and 
conveyed  to  the  adjacent  druggist's.  The  story  is 
probable— such  a  thing  might  well  be  — and  they  are 
just  in  the  condition  of  mind  to  credit  it  without 
questioning.  With  them  out  of  the  way  I  will  find 
means  to  entice  Madelon  into  the  street ;  and  once 
there,  circumstances  must  decide  my  future  course. 
I  have  a  hack  near  at  hand,  and  the  driver  is  prepared 
to  act  promptly  in  case  of  emergency.  In  the  crowd 
and  confusion  you  can  easily  lose  the  two  women. 
Sufficient  time  has  now  elapsed  to  put  this  scheme  in 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  69 

execution.  Away  now,  Joseph,  and  boldly  beard 
them.  I  will  stand  aside  and  take  my  cue  from  the 
character  of  your  company  when  you  issue  forth." 

The  priest  immediately  withdrew  a  short  distance. 
Summoning  up  all  my  audacity,  I  hastily  ran  up  the 
steps  of  the  house  designated.  With  a  violent  ring  I 
brought  a  servant  quickly  to  the  door,  and  upon  in 
quiring  for  Mrs.  Hawley,  in  a  somewhat  loud  and  ex 
cited  manner,  that  lady  accompanied  by  her  daughter- 
in-law,  hastened  into  the  hall. 

"What  is  it?"  inquired  both  ladies,  in  a  breath, 
and  staring  wildly  at  me.  "  Has  anything  happened  ?" 

Their  fears  assumed  the  very  shape  that  would 
deceive  themselves. 

T  briefly  communicated  to  them  my  nicely  con 
cocted  story  about  the  accident  which  had  (not) 
happened  to  young  Hawley.  My  earnest  manner  de 
ceived  them ;  and  their  sorrow,  which  they  openly 
expressed,  was  dreadful  to  witness. 

"0,  my  poor,  poor,  son!"  moaned  the  almost  dis 
tracted  mother. 

"My  dear  husband  hurt,  dying  may-be!  0,  what 
a  terrible  night!"  almost  screamed  the  agonized 
wife. 

You   may   be    sure   that   I   could   not  look  upon 


'TO  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

their  grief  unmoved ;  indeed  I  was  almost  tempted 
to  declare  my  story  the  base  fabrication  that  it  was. 
Would  that  I  had  done  so!  would  that  I  had  ne 
ver  again  come  within  the  compass  of  the  Jesuit's 
influence!  But  I  wavered,  and  finally  smothered 
out  the  heavenly  influence,  endeavoring  to  console 
my  lacerated  feelings  with  the  reflection,  that  they 
were  but  heretics,  and  I  had  no  right  to  pity  them. 

"What  has  happened?"  inquired  the  lady  of  the 
house,  anxiously,  as  she  stepped  into  the  hall. 

"My  poor  Charles  has  been  injured  at  the  fire!'' 
cried  Mrs.  Hawley. 

The  wife  groaned  deeply.  Her's  must  indeed  have 
been  an  aching  heart. 

"  Can  you  conduct  us  to  where  he  is  ?"  she  contin 
ued,  appealing  to  me. 

I  replied  in  the  affirmative,  though  at  first  with  a 
slight  hesitation.  I  was  still  rather  undecided. 

"  Quick,  my  dear  friend !" — she  went  on,  turning  ex 
citedly  to  her  hostess:  "let  our  bonnets  and  cloaks 
be  procured.  We  will  not  lose  an  instant  in  hasten 
ing  to  the  dear  boy.  Heaven  grant  that  his  danger 
may  be  exaggerated !" 

The  articles  demanded  by  Mrs.  Hawley  were  quickly 
produced  by  Winnie,  who,  it  seems  had  been  within 


TIIE  CONFLAGRATION;  DEFEAT  OP  THE  JESUIT. 


The  Jesuit  and  his    Victim.  71 

hearing,  and  had  hastened  for  the  garments  instantly 
upon  their  heing  demanded.  At  the  same  moment 
Madelon  also  made  her  appearance,  alarm  depicted 
upon  every  lineament  of  her  fair  face. 

"What  do  I  hear,  my  dear  aunt?  Is  cousin  Charles 
much  hurt  ?"  she  demanded,  anxiously. 

"I  fear  so,  Madelon!"  her  aunt  replied,  with  a  moan. 

"And  you  are  going  to  him!  0,  let  me  accompany 
you!"  she  plead. 

If  she  does,  I  thought  to  myself,  the  priest  is  again 
defeated. 

"No,  no,  it  must  not  be,  child!  Stay  within  doors 
until  we  return !"  Mrs.  Hawley  replied. 

"Do  let  me  go,  aunt!"  persisted  Madelon. 

"I  must  not,  Madelon!"  rejoined  her  aunt.  "There 
may  be  danger  abroad.  Do  not  urge  me  more — it 
will  pain  me.  There" — and  she  kissed  her  marble 
brow — "wait  patiently  until  we  return.  Come,  Alice!" 
she  continued,  turning  to  her  daughter-in-law,  and 
seizing  her  by  the  hand. 

Together  with  the  three  women — for  Winnie,  doubt 
less,  participating  in  the  unwonted  excitement,  had 
hooded  and  shawled  herself,  and  joined  Mrs.  Hawley 
and  Alice — I  descended  the  marble  steps,  and  led  the 
way  towards  the  scene  of  conflagration,  with  diffi- 


Madelon  Hawley,  or 


culty,  however,  elbowing  a  passage  through  the  dense 
crowd.  As  we  emerged  from  the  door  of  the  house, 
I  recognized  the  Jesuit  closely  watching  us. 

We  had  proceeded  slowly  and  safely  to  within  a 
trifling  distance  of  Mrs.  Hawley's  former  residence, 
when  my  steps  were  arrested  by  an  exclamation  from 
some  one  in  the  crowd,  near  the  burning  building. 

"Mother!  Alice!  whither  do  you  go?"  cried  the 
voice. 

"  Son  !  husband!"  screamed  the  women,  rushing  into 
the  outstretched  arms  of  young  Hawley,  who  at  that 
moment  made  his  appearance. 

I  did  not  tarry  to  witness  the  explanation,  which 
I  knew  must  ensue  ;  but  turning  upon  my  heel,  while 
they  were  yet  embracing  each  other,  I  hastened  back 
in  the  direction  we  had  come. 

Father  Huestace  was  no  where  in  sight,  and  my 
safety  forbade  me  loitering  any  longer  in  the  neigh 
borhood.  Whether  successful  or  otherwise,  I  conclud 
ed  that  I  should  find  the  Jesuit  at  his  residence,  and 
accordingly  I  directed  my  steps  towards  the  church. 
In  the  hurry  we  had  neglected  making  any  provision 
as  to  where  we  should  meet  in  case  we  became  sepa 
rated.  To  the  church,  however,  I  took  my  way. 

In  a  brief  period  I  was    standing  in  the  Jesuit's 


The  Jesuit  and  liis  Victim.  73 

sanctum.  All  trace  of  his  disguise  now  removed,  the 
man  of  many  plots  was  traversing  the  apartment  with 
rapid  and  uneven  steps.  His  brow  was  troubled,  and 
betokened  disappointment.  I  seated  myself  unasked 
— for  I  was  weary—  and  looked  at  the  priest  inquir 
ingly. 

"A  failure,  Joseph,  a  failure!"  he  exclaimed,  be 
tween  his  set  teeth.  "Another  move  lost;  but  yet 
the  game  is  not  up.  We  are  headed  off,  but  not  beat 
— not  beat!  I'll  make  another  venture  for  the  girl, 
'ere  many  suns  shall  rise  and  set. 

A  pause  ensued ;  and  then  the  priest  continued  in 
quite  a  business-like  tone — for  at  times  he  could  mas 
ter  his  passion  quickly — 

"  All,  however  is  safe  ;  though,  doubtless,  the  whole 
affair  will  be  laid  at  the  door  of  the  Church.  They 
cannot,  however,  I  fancy,  accuse  with  any  certainty ; 
and  so  long  as  that  is  the  case,  we  may  laugh  at  them. 
This  attempted  trapanning  of  the  girl,  however,  will 
act  as  a  stimulant  to  renewed  caution  on  the  part  of 
her  friends.  That  may  annoy,  but  still  cannot,  defeat 
us.  Personally  we  cannot  be  accused  in  this  trans 
action,  as  nothing  occurred,  with  me  at  least,  to  be 
tray  our  identity.  You,  Joseph,  can  answer  for  your 
self." 

4 


"Nor  with  me,"  I  replied.  "I  had  led  the  •women  as 
far  as  the  burning  house,  when — consternation ! — who 
should  cry  out  to  them  but  young  Hawley.  The  re 
cognition  was  instantaneous,  and  I  took  to  my  heels." 

"Maledictions!  How  everything  seems  to  cross 
our  purpose !"  muttered  the  Jesuit,  his  breast  again 
surging  with  passion.  "  The  girl  seems  to  be  surround 
ed  by  a  charmed  circle,  more  potent  than  any  the 
Church  could  create.  At  one  time  to  night  I  fancied 
that  our  triumph  was  certain ;  but  in  a  single  instant 
my  hopes  were  dashed  rudely  from  their  pinnacle. 
I  had  succeeded  in  enticing  Madelon  into  the  street, 
by  telling  her  that  her  cousin  Charles  was  mortally 
wounded,  and  under  the  circumstances  her  aunt  had 
thought  best  to  require  her  presence ;  we  had  got 
some  distance  from  the  house  in  a  contrary  direction 
to  the  fire,  when  from  some  cause-  an  intuitive  sense 
of  danger,  probably — she  grew  uneasy,  and  finally 
took  alarm.  Turning  suddenly  upon  me,  she  brand 
ed  me  as  the  hireling  of  a  baser  one  than  myself, 
and  demanded  the  privilege  to  return  to  her  friends. 
For  a  moment  I  was  confounded.  But  the  night  was 
dark — the  portion  of  the  street  we  were  in  deserted, 
and  my  faithful  hackman  near  at  hand  with  his  ve 
hicle.  Seizing  the  girl  in  my  arms,  I  clapped  my 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim. 


hand  upon  her  mouth,  and  hastened  towards  the  car 
riage,  having  first  signalled  the  driver  to  be  ready. 
I  had  scarcely  taken  a  half  dozen  steps,  when  by  a 
powerful  effort  she  contrived  to  release  her  mouth, 
and  screamed  for  help.  With  a  brief  expression  of 
disappointment  I  was  about  seizing  her  again,  when 
a  blow  from  an  unseen  hand  felled  me  to  the  earth, 
but  did  not  render  me  wholly  insensible.  "0,  Frank, 
Frank!"  I  heard  the  girl  exclaim;  and  then  beheld 
her  clasped  in  the  arms  of  the  man,  who,  unquestiona 
bly,  had  just  struck  me  down.  Whence  he  came  I 
know  not.  While  they  were  thus  engaged,  I  sprang 
to  my  feet,  and  made  for  the  Rack.  Once  in,  the  arch 
fiend  himself  would  scarcely  have  prevented  my  es 
cape,  much  less  this  Frank.  Frank!  the  name  is 
burnt  into  my  heart  !" 

"Frank!  Strange,  that  I  should  hear  that  name 
twice  repeated  under  such  peculiar  circumstances," 
I  muttered,  in  a  half  unconscious  musing. 

"What  mean  you,  my  good  Joseph?"  demanded  the 
Jesuit,  eagerly.  "Know  you  the  ready  heretic  ?  Who 
is  he  ?  His  name  ?  —  his  condition  ?" 

I  replied  to  the  priest  by  repeating  the  remarks, 
which  I  had  overheard  the  two  young  men  give  ut 
terance  to,  on  the  day  of  Madelon's  excommunication. 


Madelon  Hawley,  or 


"And  one  of  these  young  men  you  have  since  recog 
nized  as  Mrs.  Hawley's  son,  while  the  other  you  have 
never  again  encountered  or  heard  Anything  of.  Strange 

—  strange!    We  must  find  out  more  about  this  Frank 

—  this  audacious  heretic,  who  goes  about  blaspheming 
the  Holy  Church,  and  knocking  people  down  in  the 
street.     Can  he  be  the  man  rumor  says  Madelon  is 
soon  to  wed  ?    It  looks  like  it.     If  so,  I  have  a  double 
account  to   settle   with   him,   Joseph  ;    one   for   the 
Church,  and  one  for  myself.     But  enough  of  this  for 
the  present.     Now,  Joseph,  divest  yourself  of  that  dis 
guise,  and  then  go  your  way  for  my  head  aches  and 
reels  from  the  blow,  which  that  young  rascal  so  un 
ceremoniously  dealt  me.     Strange,  if  I  do  not  yet  be 
equal  with  him." 

While  I  was  changing  my  apparel,  and  removing 
the  black  stains  from  my  face  and  hands,  the  Jesuit 
continued  talking. 

"We  shall  have  need  hereafter,  Joseph,  to  be  more 
cautious  still,"  he  said;  "for  this  bold  and  unsuc 
cessful  foray  will  render  Madelon's  friends  argus-eyed. 
I  must  reflect  upon  some  other  plan,  more  deeply 
laid,  if  possible,  and  more  likely  of  success  ;  some 
thing  that  will  defy  all  attempts  to  fathom,  and  all 
human  efforts  to  escape.  I  know  not  yet  what  it 


The  Jesuit  and  Ms  Victim.  T7 

shall  be,  but  something  more  must  be  done.  In  the 
mean  time,  Joseph,  continue  the  strictest  espionage^ 
and  lose  not  an  opportunity  to  obtain  all  and  any  in 
formation  that  you  can  from  the  house-servants.  In 
a  few  days  the  family  will,  doubtless,  be  re-established 
in  another  mansion;  and  before  the  expiration  of  a 
week,  the  conflagration  will  cease  to  be  a  marvel.  As 
I  remarked  before,  keep  up  your  communication  with 
the  domestics,  and  neglect  not  an  opportunity  to  sym 
pathize  with  them — in  that  manner  you  may  eventu 
ally  learn  something  that  will  prove  of  great  benefit. 
Another  good  opportunity,  and  I  think  we  could  im 
pose  upon  them  more  successfully  than  on  the  pre 
sent  occasion.  At  least  we  must  venture.  And  now,  Jo 
seph,  a  glass  of  something  strong,  and  then  go  your  way." 

The  Jesuit,  probably,  began  to  see  the  error  of  his 
impatience,  and  was  inclined  to  be  more  reasonable. 

Less  than  an  hour  after  I  passed  the  scene  of  the 
recent  conflagration.  The  wind  had  almost  entirely 
exhausted  its  force,  and  a  quiet,  strangely  in  contrast 
with  the  noise  and  confusion  which  had  prevailed  a 
few  hours  previous,  rested  upon  the  scene.  The  pa 
latial  grandeur  of  the  Hawley  mansion  was  entirely 
obliterated ;  nothing  remained,  to  mark  the  spot,  but 
a  pile  of  smouldering  ruins. 


78  Madeion  Hawley,  or 


CHAPTER  V. 

TIME  hastened  on. 

Another  week  passed  away,  and  I  was  again  em 
barked  in  an  ocean  of  plots.  Though  really,  and  in 
heart,  an  unwilling  conspirator,  I  had  not  yet  the  mo 
ral  courage  to  burst  the  chains  which  the  Jesuit  had 
cast  around  me. 

During  the  intermediate  period — as  the  priest  had 
predicted — Mrs.  Hawley,  with  her  family,  had  re 
moved  into  another  splendid  and  spacious  residence 
in  the  immediate  neighborhood,  which  chanced  to 
be  vacant  at  the  time.  I  closely  watched  all  their 
proceedings,  and  continued  to  report  myself  to  Father 
Huestace.  Occasionally  I  got  a  chance  to  converse 
with  some  one  of  the  domestics — once  or  twice  with 
Winnie — and  though  I  improved  the  opportunities  as 
much  as  possible,  I  made  no  headway  in  the  right  di 
rection. 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.        „     T9 

In  relation  to  the  fire,  they  expressed  much  wonder, 
attributing  the  daring  act  to  incendiaries,  but  utter 
ing  not  a  single  word  that  would  betray  any  suspi 
cion  as  to  who  had  committed  the  deed,  or  any  know 
ledge  of  the  attempt  which  had  been  made  to  carry 
off  Madelon.  I  naturally  concluded  that  the  domes 
tics  were  ignorant  of  the  facts ;  and  whether  they 
were  or  not,  it  would  certainly  be  impolitic  in  me  to 
broach  the  subject,  as  my  knowledge  might  then  be 
questioned. 

Of  course  I  felt  anxious  and  fearful — anxious  to 
know  what  was  said,  and  thought,  and  fearful  that 
my  agency  in  the  outlawed  deed  might  be  suspected 
and  charged  home  to  me.  For  the  time  being  these 
thoughts  and  fears  induced  me  to  work  more  wil 
lingly — rendered  me  more  desirous  to  complete  the 
task  which  was  before  me— my  duty,  as  I  continued 
sedulously  repeating  to  myself.  I  began  to  reflect  a 
little,  too,  upon  the  position  in  which  our  late  adven 
ture  had  placed  me.  I  saw  plainly,  though  I  would 
not  then  attach  any  importance  to  the  fact,  that  the 
Jesuit  had  me  wholly  in  his  power.  This  reflection 
worried  me,  though  I  determinedly  attributed  my 
feelings  to  some  other  cause. 

Several  days  more  fled  quickly  away,  and  the  irn- 
4* 


80     -  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

penetrable  barrier  which  ever  surrounded  Madelon, 
remained  unbroken.  The  Jesuit  was  again  growing 
irritable  at  our  inefficiency,  as  he  impatiently  termed 
it ;  and  I  myself  had  begun  to  think,  that  some  su 
perior  power  held  the  girl  in  especial  favor,  when  I 
chanced — how  you  shall  soon  see — to  gather  sufficient 
information,  to  set  all  the  machinery  of  our  plot — I 
say  "  our,"  for  at  that  time  I  was  certainly  identified, 
heart  and  hand,  with  the  scheming  Jesuit — again  in 
active  operation. 

And  that  you  may  understand  exactly  what  this 
information  was,  and  how  I  obtained  it — that  you 
may  comprehend  the  crafty  deceit,  the  falsehood,  the 
hypocrisy,  by  which  I  attained  my  end — I  shall  repeat 
in  full  a  conversation,  which  otherwise  I  should  sum 
up  in  a  few  words.  "While  in  the  street  early  one 
evening  about  that  time,  I  accidentally  met  Winnie, 
Madelon's  half  companion.  She  had  been  visiting 
a  sick  friend,  and  was  hastening  home.  I  joined  her, 
with  my  mind  made  up  to  pursue  a  certain  course — a 
most  dishonorable  and  culpable  one,  as  I  now  see  it, 
and  have  ever  since  pronounced  it.  It  did  not  strike 
me  as  such,  then,  however.  In  fact,  in  that  respect,  I 
gave  it  no  thought.  The  girl  seemed  pleased  with 
my  company,  and  that  argued  well  for  my  success. 


The  Jesuit  and  Jiis  Victim.  81 

Pleasure  is  apt  to  open  the  heart.  We  walked  on  to 
gether,  chatting  sociably,  and  every  moment  becoming 
more  unreserved — aipon  her  part  at  least,  though  not 
really  on  mine,  for  every  word  I  uttered,  was  uttered 
for  a  purpose,  and  was  therefore  guarded.  Winnie  was 
naturally  a  smart  girl,  and  it  required  the  best  of  gen- 
eralling  to  lead  her  astray,  particularly  upon  a  sub 
ject,  which  she,  in  common  with  so  many  others,  seem 
ed  to  have  so  much  at  heart.  You  shall  see,  how 
I  managed  her,  and  to  what  extent  I  succeeded  in  my 
designs. 

I  exerted  all  my  conversational  powers,  and  at  that 
time  I  was  a  proficient ;  and  finally  so  engaged  her 
attention,  and  absorbed  her  sympathies,  by  my  well- 
directed  flattery,  and  insidious  hints  of  things  which 
might  be — the  girl  favored  me  strongly,  to  say  the 
least — that  she  forgot  for  once  her  characteristic  cau 
tion  and  reserve.  The  prospect  of  a  husband  was  too 
much  for  her ;  and  in  that  moment,  when  her  loving 
heart — for  though  poor  and  humble,  and  held  in  con 
tempt  by  many,  her  bosom  beat  as  warmly  and  as 
truly  as  any  of  God's  creatures — was  absorbed  in 
rosy  anticipations  of  the  future,  she  forgot  her  pre 
sent  discretion. 

With  devilish  cunning  I  seized  upon,  and  used,  the 


82  Maddon  Haioley,  or 

propitious  moment.  Gradually — slowly — almost  im 
perceptibly,  I  turned  the  conversation  upon  her  mis 
tress  ;  and  I  did  it  so  adroitly-— -with  such  nice  pre 
cision,  that,  quick-witted  as  she  usually  was,  she  failed 
to  take  alarm.  All  of  the  domestics  had  been  tam 
pered  with,  except  this  girl ;  for  I  had  hitherto  felt  a 
backwardness  in  approaching  her  upon  the  subject. 
I  now  depended  upon  her  heart  as  an  ally. 

"  Your  mistress  does  not  go  much  abroad  ?"  I  at 
length  remarked,  in  a  very  indifferent  and  careless 
manner. 

"  No,  not  much,  Joseph,"  she  answered,  without 
noticing  the  tendency  of  my  question. 

You  perceive  that  I  passed  by  my  own  proper 
name.  Under  the  circumstances  I  did  not  think  it 
necessary  to  adopt  any  other. 

"  It  appears  to  me  very  unnatural  for  one  so  young, 
and  beautiful,  and  rich,  to  be  moping  so  much  at 
home,"  I  continued,  artfully. 

"  Yes ;  but  it  is'nt  her  fault  that  she  don't  go  more 
abroad  than  she  does ;  she  doesn't  stay  at  home  so 
much,  of  her  own  free  will,  that  you  may  depend 
upon,  Joseph,"  the  girl  retorted  impulsively,  and  con 
sequently,  honestly. 

"  Ah,  that  alters  the  case,"   I  replied,  purposely 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  83 

mis-understanding  my  companion.  "I  was  not  aware 
that  your  mistress — so  young  and  healthy  looking — 
was  suffering  from  disease.  Who — would — have 
thought  it!" 

"  Why,  how  you  talk,  Joseph !"  Winnie  exclaimed, 
with  the  least  show  of  irritation.  "  I  did'nt  say  Miss 
Madelon  was  sick!  Can't  anything  but  sickness  re 
strain  a  person  in  the  house  ?" 

I  was  quick  enough  to  understand  that  the  girl's 
thoughts  were  gradually  concentrating  upon  her  mis 
tress  ;  and  I  felt,  too,  that  but  one  incautious  word 
would  close  her  lips  even  to  me,  her  popular  favorite. 

"  Why,  yes,  my  dear  Winnie,  certainly ;" — and  I  spoke 
in  the  kindest  tone  possible,  emphasizing  the  word 
"  dear"  for  effect ;  "  but  what  in  the  name  of  wonder 
can  it  be  ?  I  cannot  imagine  anything  else !" 

"  Why,  them — them — THEM — ATROCIOUS  Catholics !" 
she  exclaimed,  at  length,  vainly  endeavoring  to  re 
strain  her  tongue,  and  replying  as  if  I  already  some 
had  knowledge  of  Miss  Hawley's  troubles.  The  wo 
man  had  got  the  upper  hand.  "  There  now,  I've  said 
it ;  but  thank  goodness,  it's  only  to  you,  Joseph,  and 
I  don't  think  I  need  fear  trusting  you." 

Her  unsuspecting  heart  spoke  then,  and  how  it 
deceived  her,  you  may  well  guess. 


84  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

"But  I  can't  understand  it  all,  Joseph,"  she  con 
tinued,  speaking  impatiently  and  more  plainly.  "  Ain't 
we  in  our  own  country?  and  isn't  it  free  ?  Hav'nt  we 
the  right  to  go  where  we  please?  do  what  we  please? 
and  say  what  we  please  ?  and  as  long  as  we  don't  do 
wrong,  hav'nt  we  laws  to  protect  us  ?  It's  a  burning 
shame,  that  it  is,  that  my  dear  young  mistress,  with 
all  her  wealth  and  beauty,  should  be  compelled  to 
stay  at  home,  or  go  abroad  in  bodily  .fear,  and  all 
owing  to  these  vile  and  sneaking  Romanists  !" 

The  young  girl  paused  for  want  of  breath  to  continue. 

"  Why,  you  astonish  me,  Winnie !"  I  exclaimed,  with 
well-dissembled  surprise.  "  Can  this  be  possible  ? 
But  if  your  mistress  really  has  cause  to  fear  in  this 
manner,  why  is  it  that  she  does  not  appeal  to  the  laws 
you  refer  to  ?" 

"Because  those  who  are  suspected  to  be  wrongfully 
inclined  towards  her,  are  far  too  cunning  to  commit 
any  act  that  would  be  likely  to  lead  to  detection,  or 
afford  any  proof  of  their  complicity.  They  know 
entirely  too  much  for  that.  Only  just  let  them  once, 
and  they  will  find  that  in  this  land  at  least,  jails  were 
made  for  them  as  well  as  others.  They  take  precious 
good  care,  though,  not  to  expose  themselves  ;  for  they 
are  too  treacherous  and  cowardly.  They  strike  only 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  85 

in  the  dark,  and  that  is  what  my  mistress  and  her 
friends  fear." 

I  winced  under  the  girl's  outspoken  words,  and  the 
beating  of  my  heart  seemed  to  justify  their  truth. 

"  Well,  I  must  say,  this  is  all  very  strange,  Winnie," 
I  continued,  with  assumed  bewilderment.  "  But  who 
does  she  fear  particularly  ?  not  all  the  Catholics  ?" 

"  No ;  only  the  priest^,  I  believe,"  she  whispered  in 
reply,  at  the  same  time  glancing  nervously  around. 

"  The  black  hearts,  they  are  always  at  some  mis 
chief!"  I  exclaimed,  earnestly,  and  with  seeming 
honesty.  "  But  why  does  she  fear  the  priests  ?" 

Winnie  grew  restless,  and  did  not  reply  ;  acting  as 
though  she  thought  that  she  had  gone  too  far. 

"  Joseph," — she  said  at  length — "  I've  already  told 
you  more  than  has  ever  before  been  told  out  of  the 
house.  "  I'm  a  very  foolish  girl,  or  I  should'nt  have 
said  a  single  word,  for  the  subject  is  one  of  great  im 
portance  to  my  mistress.  To  any  other,  Joseph,  I 
should  have  been  dumb,  as  I  have  ever  been ;  but 
somehow  I  feel  as  if  I  could  trust  you,  even  with  my 
life,  if  it  were  necessary." 

The  girl's  preference  had  unlocked  her  tongue  ;  it 
but  remained  for  me  to  profit  by  her  weakness.  Love, 


86  Model-on  Hawley,  or 

the  all-potent  magician,  rendered  her  at  once  loqua 
cious  and  confidential. 

"  Indeed  you  can,  Winnie !"  I  replied,  earnestly. 
"  And  there  are  three  good  reasons  why.  Becatnte  I 
like  you" — the  words  went  home  to  her  heart — "  and 
in  the  event  of  your  being  unhappy  should  be  so  my 
self ;  because  I  have  no  reason  for  injuring  your  mis 
tress,  she  never  having  wronged  me  ;  and  because  I 
am  a  Protestant,  and  naturally  enough  do  not  love 
the  enemies  of  Miss  Hawley.  Three  ample  reasons, 
I  take  it ;  and  three  that  will  satisfy  even  you,  I  know. 
Go  on  now,  and  fear  not." 

You  see,  what  a  base  part  I  was  playing,  and  all 
for  my — religion.  I,  too,  can  see  it  now,  and  in  all  its 
naked,  irredeemable  deformity,  though  I  could  not 
then.  The  mists  of  bigotry  still  enveloped  and  con 
cealed  the  true  character  of  my  conduct,  and  blinded 
me  to  the  thorough  despicableness  of  thus  tampering 
with  one  who  trusted  in  the  better  principles  of  hu 
man  nature. 

"Well,  Joseph,  I  will  trust  you,"— she  replied  ; — 
"but  mind,  you  are  the  first  one,  I  ever  whispered  a 
syllable  to,  and  you  must  never,  never  repeat  it ;  for 
if  in  any  manner  I  was  to  injure  my  mistress,  it  would 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  87 

be  to  me  a  source  of  constant  regret ;  she  is  so  good 
— so  kind — and  we  all  love  her  so  much." 

I  promised  all  that  the  girl  required  ;  and  then 
sh$  went  on,  nestling  close  up  to  me,  and  lowering 
her  voice  to  a  scarcely  audible  whisper. 

You  asked  me,  Joseph,  why  my  mistress  feared 
the  priests — the  reason  is  this.  Miss  Madelon's  fa 
ther,  who  died  when  she  was  a  small  child,  was  a 
Roman  Catholic,  and  a  bigoted  one,  too.  What  a 
blessed  thing  it  was,  that  he  did  not  live  long  enough 
to  make  the  poor  child  one.  Better  an  hundred  su 
perstitious  fathers  should  have  died,  than  that  Ma- 
delon  should  have  been  taught  to  worship  a  senseless 
block  of  wood,  or  to  bow  before  an  unclean  priest." 

The  girl  spoke  earnestly,  and  the  bitterness  of  her 
words  rankled  in  my  soul.  What  was  I  but  an  un 
clean  priest  ? — a  worshipper  myself  of  senseless  wood  ? 
Still  I  went  on  for  my — religion. 

"  So  I  say,  Winnie,"  I  rejoined,  with  assumed  en 
thusiasm.  "To  escape  the  degrading  servitude  of 
the  Catholic  religion — worse  that  it  is  most  generally 
mental  slavery — is  indeed  an  event  worthy  of  our 
best  congratulations.  Miss  Hawley  has  need  to  be 
grateful — her  friends  have  need  to  be  grateful — we 
all  have  need  to  be  grateful,  that  she  by  any  means— 


88  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

even  the  death  of  her  father — escaped  a  destiny  so 
dark — so  utterly  devoid  of  that  moral  independence 
which  enables  the  true  and  enlightened  Christian  to 
approach  so  near  to  the  Throne  of  God." 

"  How  beautifully  you  can  talk,  Joseph !"  exclaimed 
Winnie,  admiringly." 

"  Well,  never  mind  that,  but  go  on  with  what  you 
were  saying,"  I  responded. 

"  Well,  as  I  was  saying,  Joseph,  Miss  Madelon's 
father  died  when  she  was  very  young,  leaving  the 
greater  portion  of  his  large  fortune  solely  to  her,  with 
the  proviso  that  in  the  event  of  her  dying  childless, 
the  whole  of  the  estate  should  go  to  endow  the  Ca 
tholic  Church  in  this  country.  Now,  did  you  ever 
hear  of  such  a  thing,  Joseph  ?  The  blind  bigot,  to  so 
lay  his  child  open  to  persecution.  That  very  clause 
has  made  her  life  one  of  continued  anxiety,  and  may, 
probably,  occasion  her  death.  It  is  the  fear  of  some 
diabolical  villainy  being  resorted  to  for  the  purpose 
of  securing  this  money,  and  also  of  gratifying  private 
hatred — and  two  base  attempts  have  already  been 
made  upon  her,  one  recently" — I  felt  that  the  girl  re 
ferred  to  the  night  of  the  fire,  but  kept  my  own  counsel 
— "  that  makes  a  slave  of  my  dear  young  mistress." 

"  Her  father  was  but  like  all  of  his  class,"  I  replied. 


TJie  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  89 

chiming  in  with  her  convictions.  "  It  is  only  a  won 
der  that  the  Church  did  not  entirely  supercede  his 
child.  But  still  no  harm  may  come  of  it.  Doubtless, 
your  mistress  alarms  herself  needlessly." 

"  She  does  not,  Joseph !"  returned  the  girl,  with 
spirit.  "  Havn't  I  told  you  that  two  attempts  have 
already  been  made  upon  her ;  and  don't  we  all  know 
what  unscrupulous  men  these  priests  are  ?  Why,  if 
they" — the  girl  still  continued  dealing  in  generalities 
when  speaking  of  Madelon's  enemies — "  were  to  mur 
der  her,  I  don't  think  it  would  be  the  first  time  that 
they  had  dipped  their  hands  in  human  blood.  Be 
sides  they  once  did  try  to  kill  her." 

I  now  became  anxious  to  find  out  who  she  meant 
by  "  they,"  if  indeed  she  knew. 

"  Kill  her !"  I  exclaimed,  echoing  her  words.  "  You 
are  jesting,  Winnie !" 

"  I  am  not,  Joseph !"  she  replied.  "  They  did  try 
to  poison  her,  just  after  her  father's  death,  and  her 
removal  among  her  Protestant  relatives.  I've  heard 
Miss  Madelon  and  her  aunt  frequently  speak  of  it. 
An  Irish  servant  woman,  it  seems,  attempted  to  ad 
minister  the  drug,  but  through  nervousness,  or  drunk 
enness,  or  something  else,  betrayed  herself  before  she 
had  accomplished  her  fiendish  purpose.  Had  she  been 


90 


a  little  more  herself,  Madelon's  fortune  and  orphan 
condition  would  soon  have  proved  a  curse." 

"  You  astonish  me !"  I  replied.  "  And  yet  it  is  no 
more  than  we  should  expect ;  for  many  of  these  Ro 
mish  priests  would  think  as  little  of  killing  a  human 
being  as  I  would  a  cat.  But  what  came  of  it,  Win 
nie  ?  The  woman,  I  suppose,  was  arrested  !" 

"  No,  she  was  not,"  returned  the  girl.  "  In  the 
confusion  she  made  her  escape,  and  was  never  after 
wards  heard  of.  Spirited  away  by  the  plotting  priests, 
I  suppose." 

I  thought  of  the  writhing  woman  in  the  Jesuit's 
library — the  dark  graveyard,  and  the  midnight  burial, 
and  my  heart,  for  a  moment,  beat  quickly. 

:'  And  was  the  author  of  the  attempt  never  found 
out,  Winnie  ?"  I  inquired. 

"  Never !"  the  girl  replied,  briefly. 

"  He  was  suspected,  however,"  I  continued,  anxious 
to  lead  her  on  to  further  developments. 

"Why,  yes,  he  was,"  the  girl  replied,  at  the  same 
time  hesitating,  as  if  in  doubt  whether  to  proceed  any 
further  or  to  stop. 

"And  is  most  likely  the  same  one  who  is  still  sus 
pected  of  being  the  secret  foe.  That  is  but  natural. 
The  villain  who  would  stoop  to  such  a  deed,  is  en- 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  91 

tirely  unscrupulous — is  to  be  feared,  and  should  be 
watched." 

A  great  truth  I  uttered,  though  it  did  not  then  have 
the  weight  with  me  it  should  have  had. 

"I  should  like  to  know  this  man,  Winnie — this 
man  who  sets  on  ignorant  women  to  murder  innocent 
children.  A  knowledge  of  his  name  might  sometime 
place  me  in  a  position  to  be  of  service  to  your  mis 
tress.  What  was  he  called  ?"  I  continued. 

"  I  don't  know,  Joseph  ;  and  that's  the  truth,"  the 
girl  replied,  earnestly. 

"But  did  you  never  hear  any  one  in  particular 
named  in  connection  with  this  singular  affair  ?"  I  per 
sisted,  determined,  if  possible,  to  penetrate  into  the 
mystery  of  their  thoughts. 

"Well,  no,  not  by  name,  Joseph,  though  I  have 
otherwise,"  rejoined  the  girl,  evasively,  "But  indeed, 
you  must  not  ask  me  any  more." 

"  And  why,  Winnie  ?"  I  still  persisted,  anxious  to 
remove  her  hesitation,  and  again  unlock  her  tongue. 
"Do  you  think  me  an  old  woman,  and  fancy  that  I 
will  go  gossipping  around  the  city?" 

"  0,  no,  no !"  she  replied,  quickly. 

"  Do  you  then  think  so  meanly  of  me,  as  to  ima 
gine,  that  I  would  wilfully  betray  the  confidence  you 


92  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

repose  in  me  ?  Or  do  you  fear,  that  /  am  a  priest 
in  disguise  ?"  For  shame,  Winnie,  for  shame,"  I 
continued,  with  a  slightly  quivering  lip  ; — "I  could  al 
most  make  up  my  mind  to  be  angry  with  you." 

"No,  Joseph,  no — don't  be  angry,"  she  replied, 
touchingly,  at  the  same  time  laying  her  disengaged 
hand  upon  my  arm,  and  looking  up  into  my  face  ; — 
"but  these  are  things  which  have  never  before  been 
spoken  of  outside  of  the  house.  They  are  fearful 
things  too ;  and  I  feel  that  we  should  not  trifle  with 
them.  We  have  all  been  charged  not  to  ;  and  until 
the  present  moment  I  have  never  betrayed  the  confi 
dence  which  has  been  reposed  in  me.  But  God 
knows,  if  I've  done  wrong,  I  did'nt  mean  to.  And 
yet  I  can't  imagine  what  occasion  you  would  have  to 
betray  me,  Joseph ;  besides  you  seem  too  good  to  act 
so  basely — too  manly  to  descend  so  low.  And  what 
could  it  profit  you,  even  if  you  w^ere  to  do  me  this 
wrong  ?" 

"  Nothing,  Winnie,  nothing ;  for  I  have  no  interest 
at  stake  further  than  sympathy  for  your  really  un 
fortunate  mistress,"  I  replied;  and  then  proceeded 
with  a  general  answer  to  the  whole  of  her  remark. 
It  was  delicate  ground,  and  I  threaded  my  way  cau 
tiously. 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  93 

It  would  be  uninteresting  for  me  to  detail  all  that 
I  said  in  this  connection ;  all  the  arguments  that  I 
advanced — all  the  falsehoods  I  manufactured.  They 
can  easily  be  imagined.  My  promises,  however,  were 
manifold,  and  of  every  character.  Nay?  I  even  offer 
ed  to  invalidate  my  constancy  by  an  oath,  if  she  re 
quired  it. 

And  what  to  me,  then,  would  have  been  an  oath, 
sworn  upon  the  Protestant  bible  ?  as  the  girl,  doubt 
less,  interpreted  wnat  I  said,  and  as  I  designed  she 
should.  Air!  Nothing  more.  A  jest  to  make  merry 
over.  Like  the  rest  of  my  class,  I  would  readily  have 
spurned  and  trampled  the  heretical  book  beneath  my 
feet,  or  have  willingly  committed  it  to  the  devouring 
flames.  Oath,  indeed!  I  would  have  pledged  myself, 
at  that  time,  upon  a  stack  of  such  volumes,  and  never 
deemed  the  obligation  in  the  least  binding.  And  in 
that  faith  every  Catholic  is  reared — in  that  faith 
nine  hundred  and  ninety-nine  thousand  out  of  every 
million  live,  act,  and  die.  So  in  one  thing,  so  in  every 
thing.  There  are  no  exceptions — the  rule  is  general. 
Is  it  to  be  wondered  then,  that  there  is  so  much  su 
perstition,  l^gotry,  and  intolerance?  Are  not  such 
things  the  natural  consequences  oi  such  a  proscribed 
and  limited  education?  I  think  so;  and  so  does 


94  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

* 

every  liberal  and  enlightened  person  in  the  commu 
nity. 

But  I  wander.  Having  exhausted  all  argument,  I 
resorted  to  another  method.  I  spoke  very  kindly  and 
gently  to  the  girl — mildly  explained  how  little  oc 
casion  there  was  for  alarm ;  and  finally  so  allayed 
her  fears  and  blunted  her  scruples,  that  she  at  length 
consented  to  proceed  with  her  story.  And  all  this 
I  managed  without  seeming  over-anxious — without 
appearing  more  intimately  interested  than  as  a  mere 
matter  of  curiosity  in  so  wonderful  a  story.  Unques 
tionably,  too,  I  had  an  advocate  in  "Winnie's  heart. 

"  Well,  Joseph,"  continued  the  girl,  at  the  conclusion 
of  my  eloquent,  but  heartless  speech,  all  her  mis 
givings  vanished — "I  don't  feel  with  you  as  I  do  with 
the  generality  of  people  that  one  meets  every  day.  I 
can't  tell  why,  exactly — all  I  know  is,  that  I  don't. 
From  the  very  first  I  felt  attracted  to  you — felt  just 
as  if  I  had  met  an  old  friend,  long  absent.  Still,  I 
must  say,  that  I  didn't  think  that  even  you  would 
have  so  deeply  enlisted  my  confidence.  It  is  strange." 

I  did  not  think  it  so  very  strange.  Love  leads 
people  many  queer  races.  0 

"  Before  we  met," — the  girl  went  on — "  I  would  as 
soon  have  thought  of  cutting  off  my  right  hand,  as 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim*  95 

of  telling  one  iota  of  the  secrets  of  the  Hawley 
family ;  and  now  I  am  actually  telling  you  about 
all  I  know." 

Another  evidence,  I  thought  to  myself,  of  the 
power  of  love ;  and  I  might  have  added  of  the 
depth  of  my  own  deceit. 

"See,  what  confidence  I  have  reposed  in  your 
honor  and  integrity." 

Honor !  Integrity !  How  oddly,  to  my  ears  at  this 
time,  sounds  honor  in  such  an  association.  Could 
the  girl  have  known  everything,  she  would  have 
substituted  "  deceit"  and  "  treachery,"  for  the  flatter 
ing  terms  she  so  innocently  used. 

"And  that  confidence  shall  make  us  yet  better 
friends,  Winnie,"  I  replied,  looking  the  feelings  I 
had  no  desire  to  more  openly  express. 

"  If  that  is  possible,  I  hope  so,"  the  girl  rejoined, 
as  if  she  did  not  understand  me.  "But  you  were 
asking,  Joseph,  whether  any  particular  person  was 
suspected  in  this  affair  of  Miss  Madelon's !" 

"  I  believe  so,"  I  answered,  indifferently,  or  seem 
ed  to. 

"  Well,  Joseph,  there  is !"  she  exclaimed,  looking 
around,  as  if  to  satisfy  herself  that  no  one  was 
within  hearing. 


96 


This  especially  interested  me,  and  I  bent  my  ear 
close  down  to  her  face. 

"Who?"   I  inquired. 

"  I  cannot  name  his  name,  Joseph ;  for  the  fa 
mily,  though  they  frequently  speak  of  his  wicked 
ness,  his  cunning,  and  his  hypocrisy,  never  refer  to 
him  personally." 

I  was  rather  disappointed.  Still  the  name  was 
not  essential,  though  I  wished  to  arrive  at  the  whole 
of  their  information. 

"  They  are  probably  wise  in  not  doing  so,"  I 
remarked,  anxious,  by  my  approval,  to  encourage 
the  girl's  loquacity.  "  Under  such  peculiar  circum 
stances  it  could  do  little  good,  while  it  might  pre 
vent  them  from  finally  overreaching  their  enemy." 

"Yes,  yes,  Joseph  ;  they  have  no  doubt  studied  all 
the  chances,"  the  girl  replied.  "  They  have  much 
to  lose,  and  are  therefore  proportionably  cautious." 

"  Have  you  never,  Winnie," — I  inquired — "  heard 
any  particular  conversation  that  might  throw  light 
upon  this  singular  story  ?" 

"  I  have,  Joseph,"  said  Winnie.  "  Sometimes  I 
have  heard  Miss  Madelon  speak  of  a  tall,  dark, 
evil  looking  man — a  Jesuit  priest — who  used  to  vi 
sit  her  father's  house  when  she  was  a  child,  and 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  9Y 

while  yet  both  her  parents  were  living.  Her  mo 
ther  died  of  consumption  about  a  year  before  her 
father  was  taken  away ;  and  though  she  was  a  pro 
fessing  Catholic,  she  was  a  bright  exception  to  the 
generality  of  them.  Miss  Madelon  is  said  to  in 
herit  not  only  her  mother's  features,  but  her  kind 
and  gentle  disposition.  This  priest  was  their  con 
fessor,  and  a  most  dreadful  villain.  I  have  heard 
Miss  Madelon  tell — though  she  is'  not  generally 
very  open  with  her  speech  in  what  relates  to  her 
past  life — how  once  she  discovered  him  and  her 
mother  alone  together — how  the  priest  looked  wild, 
and  angry,  and  dissappointed ;  and  her  mother  in 
sulted  and-  indignant;  and  how,  as  she  suddenly 
burst  into  the  room,  child  like,  she  heard  her  mo 
ther  tell  him  to  never  again  dare  to  utter  such  a 
word  in  her  presence,  for  if  he  did  she  would  at 
once  inform  her  father,  and  have  him  exposed.  The 
priest  replied  not,  but  quitted  the  room  with  an 
ominous,  scowling  brow. 

The  child  could  not  then  understand  the  meaning 
of  what  was  said,  but  the  words  were  nevertheless  in- 
indelibly  fixed  upon  her  young  mind ;  and  somehow 
from  that  time  she  both  feared  and  disliked  the  dark 

priest.    As  she  grew  older,  and  her  mind  strength- 
5 


98  Madelon  Haivley,  or 

ened,  and  when  her  poor  mother  was  slumbering  in 
the  quiet  churchyard,  she  instinctively  comprehend 
ed  what  the  base  priest  meant.  Thus  I  have  heard 
her  speak— at  times  with  broken  voice  and  tearful 
eyes — and  again  with  anger  and  indignation.  This 
is  about  all  I  know,  Joseph,  that  is  of  any  importance  ; 
and  yet  it  is  enough,  I  think,  to  show,  that  an  unholy 
avarice,  and  an  undying  hatred,  have  made  the  mo 
ther's  tempter  the  child's  enemy." 

"True,  Winnie,  true!"  I  replied.  "Disappointed 
passion,  and  greedy  avarice,  are  the  greatest  curses  of 
this  world.  The  priest  is  but  one  of  thousands  who 
have  rushed  headlong  into  the  troubled  waters  from 
which  so  few  escape.  This  is  a  singular  story  you 
have  told  me,  but,  doubtless,  true.  Where  it  all  will 
end  you  nor  I  cannot  tell.  Ah,  these  priests — if  all 
be  true  that  is  said  of  them  they  have,  indeed,  much 
to  answer  for." 

"That  they  have,  Joseph,  that  they  have  !"  respond 
ed  the  girl,  with  quickening  words.  "And  it  is  but 
little,  I  think,  that  the  world  really  knows  of  their 
secrets,  and  sinful  doings." 

Thus  far  the  girl  had  made  but  very  slight  mention 
of  the  outrage  attempted  at  the  fire.     In  fact,  as  you- 
may  perceive,  she  had  but  indirectly  referred  to  it 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  99 

The  same  reasons  that  influenced  my  conduct  in  my 
interviews  with  the  other  domestics  prevented  me 
from  pushing  the  subject  to  an  explanation  with 
Winnie.  Besides,  it  was  not  necessarily  important. 

"But  this  rascally  confessor,  Winnie,"  I  continued, 
more  anxious  to  lead  her  to  say  something  concern 
ing  Madelon's  lover,  if  indeed  she  had  one.  "Your 
mistress,  I  suppose,  converses  freely  of  him — that  is 
to  her  relatives  and  friends." 

"I  have  said,  No.  Joseph,"  the  girl  replied.  "Some 
times  things  occur  which  lead  her  to  mention  him; 
but  even  then  she  never  does  so  in  the  presence  of 
any  others  than  her  aunt's  family ;  and,  sometimes, 
though  but  by  chance,  myself;  and  I  suppose,  though, 
indeed,  I  don't  know  for  certain,  Mr.  Frank " 

Frank !  thus  again  for  the  third  time  I  heard  that 
name,  and  under  unusual  circumstances.  The  sin 
gularity  of  the  occurrence  caused  me  to  turn  round 
to  my  companion  rather  abruptly,  and  brought  us  to 
a  momentary  stop. 

The  instant,  too,  that  the  name  had  crossed  the 
girl's  lips,  she  broke  off  as  suddenly  as  if  stricken 
dumb.  That  in  itself  would  have  been  enough  to 
create  curiosity  in  any  one.  In  me  it  did  more.  I 
waited  some  time  for  her  to  continue,  but  she  remain- 


100  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

ed  silent.  Thus  we  walked  on  a  short  distance.  I 
affected  not  to  notice  her  strange  conduct — for  I  saw 
that  she  cast  several  side-long  glances  at  me — and 
acted  with  an  indifference  that  might  easily  have 
quieted  a  more  astute  person  than  herself.  All  the 
while  I  was  busy  devising  some  method  to  draw  her 
out  more  fully.  At  length  I  addressed  her  thus; 

"Well,  Winnie,  what's  the  matter?  why  don't  you 
go  on?  I  have  been  waiting  for  some  time,  but  you 
appear  to  have  come  to  a  dead  halt.  "Frank"  was 
your  last  word.  "Who  is  he,  my  dear,  and  why  is  he 
admitted  so  deeply  into  the  confidence  of  Miss  Haw- 
ley  and  her  relatives  ?  But  why  ask  that  ?  The  cir 
cumstances  explain  themselves.  A  lover,  doubtless!" 

I  paused,  anxious  to  see  the  effects  of  my  words. 

"I  don't  know,  and  can't  tell  if  I  do,  so  don't  ask 
me  any  more,"  the  girl  replied,  hurriedly,  as  if  anx 
ious  to  get  rid  of  the  subject. 

"And  why  not,  Winnie?"  I  inquired,  in  a  light  tone. 
"  Is  it  a  crime  for  a  young,  rich,  and  pretty  lady,  to 
have  a  lover,  that  you  fear  to  speak  about  it  ?" 

"No,  not  a  crime,  Joseph;  but  in  this  case  it  might 
prove  a  misfortune,"  answered  the  girl,  her  voice 
slightly  trembling.  l:  But  on  this  point  I  cannot  com 
municate  anything,  even  to  you.  I  have  already  trust- 


The  Jesuit  and  Ms  Victim.  101 

ed  you  with  a  great  deal,  so  don't,  now,  ask  me 
any  more,  Keep  what  I  have  told  you,  and  let  us 
talk  about  something  else." 

The  girl  stopped,  and  appeared  to  be  thinking. 

"Besides,  Joseph,  I  can't  see  why  you  should  be 
so  inquisitive  about  Miss  Madelon's  affairs,"  she  con 
tinued.  "If  I  did  not  know  you  so  well,  and  trust 
you  so  implicitly,  I  should  almost  think  that  you  had 
some  object  in  view." 

I  stood  upon  a  precipice ;  one  incautious  step  and 
I  was  over.  To  arouse  the  girl's  suspicions,  I  knew, 
would  defeat  all,  and  place  me,  it  was  more  than  pro 
bable,  in  a  position  from  which  I  could  not  extricate 
myself.  Already  she  was  wondering — a  step  further 
and  her  wonder  would  assume  a  shape.  I  hastened 
to  vindicate  myself,  and  then  dropped  the  subject. 
Before  the  eloquence  of  my  words  the  girl's  momen 
tary  suspicion  dissolved  like  snow. 

Winnie  continued  to  chatter,  but  not  of  Madelon, 
or  what  particularly  interested  me.  In  fact,  I  scarce 
ly  heard  her ;  my  mind  was  otherwise  engaged. 
A  panorama  of  the  Jesuit's  life  was  unrolling  before 
my  inward  eyes.  I  saw  it  all —  saw  the  sensual  priest 
— the  virtuous  wife — the  bigoted  father — the  inno 
cent  child.  Before  me  passed  in  review  all  that  both 


102  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

the  priest  and  the  girl  had  told  me,  and  each  story 
fitted  nicely  to  the  other.  Thus  brick  by  brick  the 
superstructure  of  mystery  and  crime  towered  up — • 
the  architect,  Father  Huestace — the  builder,  myself. 

Such  were  my  reflections  —such  the  condition  of 
my  mind.  My  thoughts,  however,  impressed  me  dif 
ferently  at  that  time  from  what  they  do  now ;  for  then 
I  lived  and  breathed  but  at  the  direction  of  others — 
then,  my  heavenly  Master,  and  my  earthly  king,  were 
combined  in  the  Church — the  Church,  supreme  and 
infallible — the  only  One  power  upon  earth. 

Finally,  my  thoughts  assumed  another  character. 
With  lightning  speed  I  reviewed  the  Jesuit's  position; 
and  I  felt  convinced,  that  he  was  the  person  pointed 
at,  and  that  he  was  vigilantly  watched;  that  Made- 
Ion  had  a  lover  who  was  admitted  into  all  their  se 
crets  as  one  deeply  interested;  and  that  in  a  little 
while  only,  both  the  girl  and  her  estate  would  be 
wrested  forever  from  the  Church. 

Here  I  was  aroused  to  outward  consciousness  by 
Winnie,  who,  having  completed  what  she  was  saying, 
observed  my  abstraction,  and  poutingly  took  me  to  task 
for  it.  I,  however,  excused  myself  in  a  satisfactory 
manner — and  what  man  that  was  loved  ever  failed  to 


The   Jesuit  and  liis  Victim.          103 

do  that  with  the  woman  who  loved  him  ? — and  dash 
ed  off  in  a  rambling  conversation. 

Again,  however,  my  thoughts  were  wandering  to 
other  subjects.  There  was  yet  more  that  I  desired 
to  learn ;  for  the  information  I  had  derived  from 
the  too  credulous  girl  by  my  side,  was  in  part 
known  to  me,  and  was  not  in  reality  of  any  prac 
tical  use.  What  I  had  heard  was  all  very  well  as 
far  as  it  went,  but  it  would  not  assist,  either  in  se 
curing  Madelon,  or  preventing  a  marriage  ;  and  one 
or  both,  was  what  the  Jesuit  was  scheming  after. 
How  should  I  contrive  it?  I  thought.  How  lead 
her  to  say  something  of  Madelon's  outgoings  ? 

At  length  we  turned  into  the  noble  Square  upon 
which  Mrs.  Hawley  resided ;  a  few  moments  more 
and  the  chance  would  be  lost.  I  knew  not  what 
to  say  or  how  to  proceed.  For  once  my  ingenuity 
was  at  fault ;  and  in  complete  despair  I  gave  utte 
rance  to  the  first  thought  that  came  into  my  mind. 
And  yet  that  simple,  unreflecting  question,  led  to 
what  was  most  desired,  and  cost  three  persons — 
but  I  will  not  anticipate. 

"  When  shall  we  meet  again,  Winnie  ?"  I  inquir 
ed,  with  all  the  ardor  of  a  sincere  lover.  "I  have 
something  of  importance  to  communicate  to  you  for 


104  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

which  there  is  not  now  time.  I  have  been  so  ab 
sorbed,  and  interested,  in  the  persecutions  to  which 
your  unfortunate  mistress  is  a  victim,  that  I  forgot 
my  own  affairs  entirely." 

The  girl  brightened  up  quickly.  The  words 
"  something  of  importance"  possessed  a  peculiar 
meaning  to  her,  and  they  made  music  in  her  heart 
— rang  out,  clear  and  sweet,  like  the  joyous  chime 
of  wedding  bells. 

"  I  can  scarcely  say,  Joseph," — she  replied,  quite 
unsuspiciously — "but  at  all  events  on  the  first 
opportunity,  and  that  won't  be  long  occurring.  My 
mistress,  you  know,  treats  me  more  as  a  friend 
than  as  a  domestic ;  and  were  it  not  for  the  fear 
in  which  she  stands,  I  should  not  hesitate  a  moment 
in  inviting  you  to  the  house.  As  it  is  we  must  be 
content  to  do  the  best  we  can." 

That  was  not  satisfactory  to  me — not  what  I  wanted. 

"  But  can't  you  name  some  time,  Winnie  ?"  I  per 
sisted.  "  You  must  surely  have  some  idea  when  an 
opportunity  will  be  most  likely  to  occur?" 

"  You  are  so  persevering,"  the  girl  responded,  still 
innocent  of  any  sinister  motive.  "  I  suppose  I  must 
gratify  you.  Let  me  think.  I  have  it.  Miss  Made- 
Ion  will  visit  her  friend,  Anna  Sinclair,  to-morrow, 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.          105 

and  not  return  home  until  in  the  evening,  as  I  heard 
her  ask  her  cousin  Charles  if  he  would  call  for  her." 

That  was  the  very  disclosure  I  had  been  aiming  at 
from  the  beginning — the  very  thing  the  Jesuit  desir 
ed — another  opportunity.  How  it  was  to  be  used  this 
time,  I  was  yet  to  learn. 

"  Then  we  shall  have  an  opportunity  of  meeting," 
I  replied,  apparently  very  delighted.  "  But  at  what 
hour,  Winnie  ?" 

"  Miss  Madelon's  cousin  is  not  to  call  for  her  until 
ten  o'clock,"  she  answered.  "  You  can  call  for  me  by 
eight,  and  we  can  have  an  hour's  walk  all  to  ourselves. 
I  don't  like  to  ask  it,  Joseph,  but  please  come  to  the 
basement-door.  For  the  present  I  do  not  wish  the 
family  to  know  that  I  have  company." 

"  Thanks,  Winnie,  thanks !  and  no  excuses,  for  I  am 
content,"  I  responded.  "  But  does  not  your  mistress 
tremble  to  be  out  so  late  in  the  evening  ?" 

"  I  have  said  so,  Joseph  ;  but  she  can't  remain  al 
ways  at  home,"  the  girl  replied.  "  Besides,  she  in 
variably  rides  when  out  after  dark,  and  is  never  un 
accompanied  by  either  her  cousin,  or" — again  the  girl 
broke  off  with  tokens  of  confusion  ;  but  after  a  mo 
ment's  pause  she  continued  as  if  she  had  only  re 
ferred  to  the  cousin — "  and  he  is  always  prepared  for 
5* 


106  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

any  violence  which  her  enemies  may  resort  to.  She  is 
always  driven  to,  and  from,  wherever  she  wishes  to  go, 
and  generally  by  our  own  trusty  coachman.  Some 
times,  however,  though  not  often,  Mr.  Charles,  if 
business,  or  any  other  engagement,  calls  him  from 
home  upon  the  same  evening  Miss  Madelon  is  absent, 
does  not  order  the  family  carriage  to  be  in  atten 
dance,  but  picks  up  a  chaise  wherever  he  chances  to 
be,  and  fetches  her  home  in  that  manner.  Mrs. 

• 

Hawley  thinks  it  highly  imprudent,  and  has  so  ex 
pressed  herself  to  her  son  on  each  occasion  ;  but  he 
says  that  it  is  a  great  deal  less  trouble,  and  so  long 
as  he  is  with  Miss  Madelon  there  is  no  danger." 

"  He  should  not  be  too  confident,"  I  replied,  de 
vouring  every  word  the  imprudent  girl  said.  "  He 
knows  not  when  danger  may  surround  him,  for  these 
crafty  priests  are  forever  on  the  alert,  and  deal  their 
blows  when  and  where  they  are  least  expected." 

"  True,  Joseph,"  responded  Winnie  ;  "  and  so  his 
mother  has  repeatedly  warned  him  but  like  the  rest 
of  you  men  he  is  a  little  headstrong.  "  But  see,  I  am 
home !" 

At  that  moment  we  stopped  in  front  of  Mrs.  Haw- 
ley's  new  residence,  and  a  gleam  of  light  suddenly 
shone  from  an  upper  window,  and  flashed  upon  the 


The  Jesuit  and  Ms  Victim,  107 

sidewalk  at  our  feet.  It  attracted  my  attention,  and 
I  looked  up  just  in  time  to  see  the  queenly  form  of 
Madelon  flit  past. 

"  Miss  Madelon  has  been  looking  for  me,  I  know," 
said  Winnie.  "  I  have  loitered  too  long.  Good  night, 
Joseph,  and  be  secret  above  all  things." 

"  Depend  upon  me,  Winnie,"  I  answered,  as  I  press 
ed  her  hand.  Then  with  another  "  good  night"  the 
girl  darted  into  the  house,  and  I  turned  my  steps  in 
the  direction  of  the  church.  I  had  played  my  part 
well ;  and  if  consummate  rascality  could  have  recom 
mended  me  to  favor,  I  was  then  entitled  to  consider 
able  promotion.  In  every  sense  of  the  word  I  had 
played  the  poor  girl  false  ;  trifled  with  her  integrity, 
and  tampered  with  her  affections.  It  only  remained 
for  me  to  betray  her  confidence.  You  shall  see  what 
came  of  it. 


108  Madelon  Hawley,  or 


CHAPTER     VI. 

THOUGH  the  distance  between  Mrs.  Hawley's  man 
sion  and  the  church  was  considerable,  I  reached  the 
latter  in  a  short  time.  I  was,  of  course,  immediate 
ly  ushered  into  the  sanctum  sanctorum. 

As  I  entered  the  priest's  dimly  lighted  and  se 
pulchral  looking  apartment,  I  noticed  that  his  brow 
was  clouded,  and  his  lips  compressed,  as  if  his 
thoughts,  whatever  they  were,  were  not  the  most 
pleasant,  or  agreeable,  or  desirable.  Locking  the 
door — a  customary  caution  with  the  Jesuit — he  seat 
ed  himself  by  the  table,  and  desired  me  to  do  like 
wise. 

I  complied.  After  regarding  me  for  a  few  mo 
ments  quite  attentively,  he  remarked ; 

"  Well,  my  good  Joseph,  what  news  ?  I  think  you 
have  some — your  looks  betoken  it." 

"  True,  your   reverence,  I  have  news,"    I    replied. 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  109 

But  whether  it  will  prove  desirable  news,  or  be  of 
service,  remains  to  be  seen.  I  came  while  yet  the 
recollection  was  fresh,  so  that  you  might  not  lose 
a  word." 

"Well,  well,  my  good  Joseph,  what  is  it?"  the 
priest  inquired,  somewhat  irritably,  at  the  same 
time  throwing  himself  back  in  his  easy  chair. 

That  he  was  chafed  about  something  I  plainly 
saw.  Probably  his  conscience  had  been  goading 
him;  if,  indeed,  he  could  boast  of  such  an  appen 
dage. 

I  paused  a  moment  to  collect  my  scattered  thoughts 
before  I  proceeded,  and  then  went  on. 

"  It  is  this,"  I  replied,  in  a  low,  but  distinct,  whis 
per.  "  I  met  Miss  Hawley's  dressing-maid  and  demi- 
companion  early  this  evening — a  young  and  rather 
confiding  creature  for  whom  I  have  affected  love, 
that  I  might  the  more  easily  mislead  her.  We  walk 
ed  together,  and  on  the  way  she  told  me  much." 

"  Indeed  ?  This  looks  like  business  !  She  should 
know  something,  as  she  has  every  opportunity. 
Well,  Joseph,  well !"  exclaimed  the  Jesuit,  im 
patiently,  leaning  forward  upon  the  table,  and 
dropping  his  chin  into  the  palm  of  his  hands. 

"  It    was    a    difficult     task," — I   continued — "  but 


110  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

nevertheless  I  managed  the  girl  very  successfully. 
They — you  understand  me  ?" — the  priest  nodded  af 
firmatively — "  they  fear  a  conspiracy  to  deprive  Made- 
Ion  of  her  wealth— or  worse,  of  her  life;  and  that 
is  why  she  goes  so  seldom  abroad,  and  never  un 
attended." 

"  Considering  what  has  already  occurred,  one 
might  guess  that  much,  my  good  Joseph,  nor  yet 
be  thought  a  prophet,"  remarked  Father  Huestace. 
"  Proceed !" 

"  Your  reverence  did  not  hear  me  through,"  I 
replied,  not  liking,  though  I  feared  to  murmur 
against,  the  tone  he  adopted,  I  had  become  so 
fascinated — what  else  can  I  term  it  ? — with  the 
crafty  priest. 

"  Well,  well,  Joseph,  get  on !''  the  priest  exclaim 
ed.  "  I  am  on  the  rack.  What  more  ?  Say  it 
briefly,  for  my  patience  brooks  not  long  stories." 

"  Neither  have  they  forgot" — I  continued,  rather  de 
liberately— "a  certain  bootless  attempt  at  poisoning; 
and  frequently  they  talk  of  it ;  and  though  names 
are  never  mentioned,  there  is  one — mark,  your  reve 
rence ! — there  is  on?,  towards  whom  all  their  obser 
vations  point." 

The  face  of  the  Jesuit  grew  suddenly  white ;  and 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  Ill 

his  brow  contracted  until  I  could  scarcely  see  his 
eyes. 

"Towards  roe,  I  suppose!"  he  exclaimed,  passion 
ately.  "  Was  it  not  so,  Joseph  ?" 

I  nodded,  Yes. 

"I  had  thought  so  ever  since,  but,  maledictions  on 
them !  the  certainty  of  it  makes  half  a  coward  of  me. 
And  did  the  babbling  girl  relate  the  whole  circum 
stance?"  he  exclaimed,  inquiringly.  "All?" 

"  All !"  I  replied,  echoing  his  words.  "  All ;  except, 
indeed,  what  became  of  the  woman  who  attempted  the 
child's  life.  That,  of  course,  they  are  all  ignorant  of." 

"  And  there  I  am  safe,  Joseph !"  he  exclaimed,  ex- 
ultingly.  "  They  cannot  penetrate  that  mystery.  Dead 
men  tell  no  tales!  Ha!  Ha!  Ha!  The  grave  cannot 
bear  witness !" 

The  priest's  hollow  laugh  startled  me— thrilled  me; 
and  I  glanced  nervously  at  the  little  window,  almost 
fancying  that  I  beheld  the  spirit  of  the  murdered 
woman  gazing  into  the  room,  and  pointing  her  flesh- 
less  fingers  at  us.  It  was  a  horrible  fancy,  and  chill 
ed  me  from  head  to  foot. 

"  Continue,  brother  Joseph,  continue !"  he  exclaimed, 
abruptly,  after  a  moments  pause.  "  I  am  prepared 
to  hear  you." 


1.12  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

"  It  appears," — I  said,  in  compliance — "  that  Miss 
Hawley — *' 

"  Madelon,  you  mean,  I  suppose,"  said  the  priest, 
interrupting  me. 

"  The  same!"  I  answered.  "As  I  was  saying,  it 
appears,  that  Miss  Hawley  has  a  most  tenacious  me 
mory,  too;  for  she  remembers  and  frequently  speaks 
of  things  which  occurred  long  ago — even  before  her 
mother's  death." 

I  paused,  anticipating  another  display  of  passion  on 
the  part  of  the  priest.  But  not  so.  The  intimation 
whi  ch  my  words  conveyed  did  not  then  rouse  him.  The 
stoim  was  only  gathering. 

"Before  her  mother's  death,  you  say,  Joseph?"  he 
almost  whispered.  "Well,  go  on!  go  on!  What 
does  she  remember?" 

''  The  girl  communicated  to  me  one  circumstance 
in  particular,"  I  continued.  "She  had  been  present 
when  her  mistress  had  spoken  of  it.  It  was,  how, 
when  she— Madelon — was  a  small  child,  she  had  one 
day  found  a  tall,  dark,  evil-looking  priest — the  girl's 
very  words,  your  reverence — closeted  with  her  mo 
ther  ;  and  how  she  had  heard  her  mother  indignantly 
threaten  the  priest — a  Jesuit,  and  their  family  con- 


The   Jesuit  and  liis  Victim.          113 

fessor — with  instant  exposure,  if  he  ever  again  pre 
sumed  to  repeat  what  he  had  then  uttered." 

By  this  time  the  bosom  of  Father  Huestace  was 
surging  with  accumulated  passion,  all  the  more  fear 
ful  that  it  had  hitherto  been  restrained. 

"Malediction!"  he  hissed  out.  " Does  the  apostate 
girl  remember  that?  And  dares  she  to  talk  about 
it?  Is  it  thus  they  prate  in  secret — thus  they  point 
at  me — thus  they  call  up  by-gones  and  array  them 
against  me.  Blistered  be  their  tongues  forever!" 

After  walking  the  floor  rapidly  for  a  few  moments 
— for  in  his  excitement  he  had  arisen  from  the  table 
—he  reseated  himself,  and  addressed  me. 

"And  yet  I  do  not  fear  them!" — he  exclaimed,  in 
tensely  ; — "  talk  as  they  may — think  as  they  may ;  for 
they  have  no  proof,  and  the  Church  justifies  me  in 
crushing  her  enemies — nay,  it  applauds  the  deed. 
Better  that  we  killed  Madelon,  than  that  the  heretics 
should  triumph  in  her  apostacy,  and  revel  in  the 
wealth  which  rightly  should  enrich  the  Church.  So 
much  for  the  attempted  poisoning;  and  for  the  rest, 
I  did  love  Madelon's  mother,  and  would  have  made 
her  mine  could  I  have  done  so.  But  I  was  a  priest, 
and  she  was  another's;  and  so-,  driven  on  by  the  in- 
tensest  passion  that  ever  consumed  the  human  heart' 


114  Madelon  Hawley,  or 


I  sought  the  only  other  alternative.  The  woman  scorn 
ed  me — reviled  me— heaped  upon  me  the  most  with 
ering  contempt  her  high  heart  could  conceive — threat 
ened  me  with  the  largest  exposure— forbade  me  the 
house — all — all !  Mother  of  God,  how  I  grew  to  hate  that 
woman — that  woman  who  had  defied  my  power ;  tram 
pled  upon  my  heart ;  and  laughed  at  the  pains  of  my 
fierce  passion!  It  was  one  of  these  interviews  which  the 
brat  broke  in  upon.  I  remember  it  well,  and  so  does 
she,  it  seems.  Better,  far  better,  that  she  did  not." 

With  a  quick,  nervous,  movement,  the  Jesuit  again 
arose  from  his  chair,  and  striding  across  the  room  to 
the  book-case,  produced  the  inevitable  black  bottle. 
He  quaffed  deeply  this  time,  and  then  placing  it  be 
fore  me,  bade  me  drink. 

"The  mother," — he  continued,  slightly  calmed  down 
— "died  shortly  after  our  last  bitter  interview;  but 
to  the  end  of  her  life  I  persecuted  her  in  every  pos 
sible  manner — poisoned  all  her  happiness — embitter 
ed  all  her  days.  We  Jesuits,  Joseph,  never  forego 
our  vengeance!" 

I  involuntarily  trembled  at  the  man's  fierceness. 

A  scowl,  dark  and  terrible,  flitted  across  the  priest's 
working  countenance.  "  I  began  to  stand  in  awe  of 
the  passionate  and  unprincipled  being  before  me. 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  115 

Again  he  resumed. 

"Then  all  my  hatred  concentrated  upon  the  child, 
the  living  image  of  the  mother ;  and  the  circumstan 
ces  of  her  seizure  by  the  Protestants,  together  with 
the  conditions  of  her  father's  will,  seemed  to  open  a 
channel  for  the  gratification  of  my  hate.  I  could  at 
once  serve  both  the  Church  and  myself — perform  my 
duty,  and  in  a  measure,  at  least,  fling  back  the  pain 
the  mother  had  inflicted  upon  me.  The  loss  of  their 
wealth,  if  nothing  else,  shall  yet  compensate  me  for 
what  I  have  suffered !" 

I  now  felt  more  than  satisfied,  that  Father  Huestace 
was  as  avaricious  as  he  was  revengeful ;  but  his 
whole  character  and  conduct  was  so  mixed  up,  that 
he  was  really  as  inexplicable  as  the  sphinx.  I  could 
but  look  on,  wonder,  and,  like  a  child  in  leading- 
strings,  obey  ! 

"  You  know  the  rest,  my  good  Joseph,"  he  again 
continued.  "  Now  I  do  not  intend  to  murder  Made- 
Ion — unless  indeed  circumstances  become  too  impera 
tive  —but  while  she  is  sweetly  dreaming  of  husband, 
home,  love,  and  happiness,  I  will  rudely  awaken  her 
to  a  realizing  sense  of  a  convent's  realities.  To  me 
that  will  be  exquisite  vengeance,  while  the  Church 
will  be  nobly  served  both  in  procurement  of  her  de- 


116  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

votion  to  that  faith  in  which  her  father  lived  and 
died,  and  in  the  rescue  of  her  large  estate  from  the 
grasp  of  a  heretic  husband." 

What  a  medley  of  dark  feelings  had  the  Jesuit  vent 
ed  in  the  few  words  which  he  had  last  given  utter 
ance  to.  But  over  them  all,  in  conclusion,  he  cast 
the  mantle  of  the  Church,  as  if  he  fancied  that  through 
it  his  real  design  could  not  be  penetrated  ;  or  if  it  was, 
that  it  could  not  be  arrayed  against  him.  With  me 
he  had  thrown  off  the  reserve  which  slightly  distin 
guished  our  first  intercourse ;  but  he  still  endeavor 
ed  to  convince  me,  that  the  gratification  of  his  own 
feelings  were  but  secondary— that  the  triumph  of  the 
Church  was  the  ultima  thule  of  all  his  desires— all 
his  ambition.  This  he  more  frequently  implied  than 
expressed  directly ;  but  in  one  way  or  the  other,  it 
stood  out  prominently  in  all  his  conversations. 

"But  the  lover,  Joseph,  the  lover— what  concern 
ing  him  ?"  he  inquired,  suddenly.  "  Is  he  a  myth,  or 
is  he  a  giant,  or  but  the  creation  of  a  rumor  ?  I  feel 
in  my  heart,  that  I  shall  hate  him  as  I  do  the  recreant 
girl— as  I  hated  the  mother  when  that  mother  treat 
ed  me  like  a  dog.  Come,  Joseph,  you  have  heard 
much  this  night — did  you  hear  aught  of  him?" 

Something,  I  imagine,"    was  my  somewhat  ab- 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  11 Y 

stracted  reply ;  for  I  was  inwardly  conning  over  the 
Jesuit's  last  declaration. 

"  There  is  a  lover,  then !"  exclaimed  the  Jesuit,  ac 
tually  hissing  the  words  between  his  set  teeth. 

"  I  think  so,"  I  answered. 

"  His  name,  his  name,  Joseph  ?"  the  priest  demand 
ed,  much  excited.  "  Did  you  learn  that  ?" 

"Frank—" 

"  Frank !  Maledictions !"  cried  the  priest,  interrupt 
ing  me.  "'.  "  That  man  again !  Well,  go  on,  Joseph. 
What — what  is  his  other  name  ?" 

"  That  I  could  not  learn,'*  I  answered. 

"Not  learn  !"  cried  Father  Huestace,  angrily. 

"  No,  your  reverence,"  I  replied.  "  Listen,  and  you 
will  understand  why  I  could  not  learn  it. 

"Well,  go  on!  go  on!"  he  said,  quite  evidently  not 
very  well  pleased.  "  So  important,  too !  Well,  pro 
ceed  !  proceed !" 

And  then  regardless  of  my  promise  to  Winnie — 
of  my  honor— of  my  soul's  eternal  welfare,  I  pro 
ceeded  to  relate  to  the  plotting  and  revengeful  Jesuit, 
word  for  word,  all  the  remainder  of  my  conversation 
with  the  girl.  What  induced  me  ?  you  may  ask.  Edu 
cation  !  is  my  answer. 

Throughout  the  rest  of   my    communication   the 


118  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

priest  did  not  once  interrupt  me  further  than  by  ex 
pressing  in  brief  monosyllables  either  his  anger,  sur 
prise  or  pleasure ;  all  three  of  which  emotions  my 
words  alternately  and  strongly  agitated.  He  seemed 
particularly  disappointed  and  distressed,  when  I  re 
counted  my  ineffectual  efforts  to  learn  more  of  the 
lover;  but  when,  at  length,  I  informed  him  concern 
ing  Madelon's  projected  visit  on  the  following  eve 
ning,  the  features  of  his  face  relaxed,  and  he  rubbed 
his  hands  together  joyfully.  His  delight  was  mani 
fest. 

"Ah!  well  done,  my  good  Joseph!"  he  exclaimed, 
as  soon  as  my  manner  indicated  that  I  had  finished. 

"  We  have  at  length,  methinks,  run  the  game  down. 
We  will  not  now  kindle  a  conflagration,  that  we  may 
carry  the  girl  off  in  the  smoke,  but  with  a  subtler 
cunning  entice  her  into  a  web,  from  which  she  cannot 
extricate  herself.  Your  Winnie — thank  the  simple 
creature — has  done  the  Church,  though  unwittingly, 
good  service.  But  we  must  to  work,  to  work,  for  the 
time  is  brief;" — and  the  priest  spoke  quickly,  bend 
ing  down  over  the  table,  as  he  did  so ;  "  the  girl 
once  in  our  hands,  must  be  got  out  of  the  city  as  soon 
as  possible ;  and  that  will  be,  when  our  personal  safe 
ty  permits.  The  lover,  and  we  must  quickly  find 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  119 

out  who  lie  really  is — knows  too  much —  will  be  like 
ly  to  push  inquiry  too  far,  and  must  be  seen  to — must 
be  seen  to,  Joseph.  Leave  him  to  ine,  however.  Once 
let  me  be  certain  of  his  identity,  and  I  will  deal 
surely  with  the  ardent  heretic.  If  it  be  this  Frank,  I 
owe  him  the  principal  and  interest  of  a  blow  which 
yet  rankles  in  my  flesh." 

"  But  how  are  we  to  proceed  now,  your  reverence  ?" 
I  inquired.  "  What  do  you  contemplate  ?" 

"  I  am  not  exactly  prepared  to  say,  Joseph,"  he 
answered.  "  A  scheme  is  floating  through  my  brain, 
but  it  is  not  yet  matured.  I  must  sleep  upon  it. 
We  are,  however,  approaching  a  climax,  either  for 
good  or  ill.  The  time  has  come  when  we  must  be 
more  cautious  still.  One  hasty  or  miscalculated  move 
and  the  heretics  will  again,  and  perchance,  irreme 
diably  checkmate  us.  Therefore  caution,  Joseph, 
caution.  Defeat  this  time  would  overwhelm  us.  But 
go  your  way  now,  for  I  must  have  time  for  reflection. 
Come  to-morrow  morning  early;  but  first  find  out 
where  this  Anna  Sinclair  resides— that  is  essential." 

I  had  started  towards  the  door,  when  the  sound 
of  the  priest's  voice  caused  me  to  turn  round  again. 

"  And,  Joseph,  before  you  go,  a  thought  has  struck 
me,"  he  said.  "  Are  you  to  any  extent  familiar 


120  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

with  the  tone  of  voice,  and  the  manner,  of  Made- 
Ion's  cousin,  Charles?" 

"  I  have  both  seen  him,  and  heard  him  converse, 
frequently,"  I  replied,  wondering  at  what  he  was 
aiming. 

"Could  you  personate  him  pretty  well  ?  I  have 
somewhere  heard— from  the  Vicar  Genefal,  or  some 
body — that  the  art  of  imitation  and  mimicry  was 
not  the  least  of  your  accomplishments.  Was  I  mis 
informed  ?" 

"  Your  reverence  was  not,"  I  responded.  "  The 
gift — for  it  is  natural,  and  not  acquired,  has  fre 
quently  created  much  wonderment.  I  could  per 
sonate  any  man  living." 

"  And  well— quite  well  ?"   demanded  the  priest. 

"  Yes,  your  reverence,"  I  replied.  "  In  this  case 
so  well  that  I  would  defy  even  Madelon  to  dis 
cover  the  difference,  provided  that  she  did  not  see 
me." 

"  I  am  right  glad  of  it,  my  good  Joseph,"  the 
priest  continued.  "  It  would  have  been  unfortunate 
otherwise ;  as  it  is,  it  certainly  renders  our  chance 
of  success  all  the  better.  And  now,  good  night, 
again,  and  do  not  forget  to  find  out  where  Made- 
Ion's  friend  resides.  The  heretics! — we  shall  beat 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  121 

them  yet,  Joseph,  we  shall  beat  them  yet !  And 
let  me  but  once  see  Madelon,  and  her  lover — for  it 
would  be  a  shame  to  part  them — safe  on  their  way 
to  Rome,  and  I  am  satisfied." 

The  •  Jesuit  turned  away  as  he  uttered  the  last 
words,  and  I  silently  glided  from  the  room. 

Safe  on  their  way  to  Rome  !  That  was  news  to  me. 

Heretofore  the  priest  had  but  referred  ambiguous 
ly  to  his  ultimate  intention,  but  now  he  expressed 
himself  in  decided  terms.  Rome,  mighty  Rome ! 
was  Madelon's  final  destination,  and  the  lover's  too? 
it  seemed.  To  those  who  could  appreciate  the  work 
ings  of  such  a  nature  as  was  the  priest's,  nothing 
would  be  easier  to  understand  than  why  Madelon's 
lover  had — even  when  his  existence  was  but  a  vague 
suspicion — incurred  the  animosity  of  the  long  resent 
ful  Jesuit.  To  men  like  him,  whose  malice  is  un 
dying,  and  whose  hatred  is  unbounded,  it  is  but  natural. 
Their  happiness — their  prosperity — had  Madelon 
have  wedded — would  have  driven  him  frantic. 
Thus,  in  his  heart,  he  had  condemned  the  lover ; 
and  circumstances  but  tended  to  confirm  his  deter 
mination.  The  suspicion  which  at  that  time  pos 
sessed  him,  that  it  was  from  the  hands  of  Made- 
Ion's  intended  that  he  had  received  the  blow  on  the 


122  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

night  of  the  conflagration  but  whetted  his  desire  to 
include  him  in  the  girl's  misfortune.  Any  man 
with  his  feelings — corrupted  as  they  were — placed 
in  similar  circumstances,  would,  doubtless,  have  ex 
perienced  the  same  unreasonable  passions. 

These  constituted  the  undercurrent  of  the  Jesuit's 
thoughts  and  desires,  and  it  was  left  for  time  and 
circumstances  to  lay  them  bare  to  my  gaze. 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  123 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  morrow  came  as  all  morrows  do— buoyant 
with  life,  and  heavy  with  death — rosy  with  health, 
and  pale  with  sickness — overflowing  with  plenty,  and 
pinched  with  want — bright  and  bounding  with 
gladness  and  joy,  and  black  and  terrible  with  sor 
row  and  grief. 

To  some  it  brought  disappointment — to  some  des 
pair — to  some  death ;  and  to  a  few,  comparatively 
speaking,  happiness.  To  many  it  was  as  the  day 
before — as  the  day  after  would  be. 

To  the  poor  it  presented  the  same  endless  round 
of  labor — the  same  inward  agony — the  same  narrow 
sphere,  mentally  and  physically.  To  the  rich  the 
same  gaiety — the  same  pleasure  (!)  and  alas !  the 
same  hard,  worldly,  hearts.  These  remain  unchang 
ed  the  world  over,  and  day  after  day.  Great  ar 
mies  may  annihilate  each  other — the  pestilence  may 


124  Madelon  Hauuey,  or 

depopulate — the  earthquake  swallow  up — the  flood 
engulf;  and  all  things  change,  but  the  rich  man's 
pleasure,  and  the  poor  man's  agony — they  are  eter 
nal.  How  much  happier  and  better  people  would  be, 
could  each  but  realize  a  portion  of  the  other's  in 
heritance.  But  the  one  will  not,  and  the  other  can 
not;  so  the  world  must  even  jog  on  as  it  is. 

The  morning's  light,  too,  bro'ke  alike  upon  the 
vision  of  the  sinner  and  the  saint — the  friend  and 
the  foe — the  guilty  and  the  innocent.  The  Jesuit 
with  his  head  full  of  schemes — the  lover  with  his 
heart  running  over  with  affection — the  maiden,  anx 
ious,  but  trembling,  for  the  future,  and  happy,  as 
might  be,  in  the  blissful  ignorance  which  rendered 
her  oblivious  of  the  day's  closing ;  all,  so  widely 
separated  in  some  things,  so  closely  united  in  others, 
in  the  same  hour  welcomed  the  outspreading  of 
Heaven's  light.  Some  looked  forward  to  it  for  the 
good  it  might  bring — some  for  the  wrong  which 
should  then  be  consummated. 

But  let  us  leave  these  speculations.  The  morn 
ing  is  up,  and  the  world  awake — our  world  at  least. 
Already  the  picture  crowds  upon  the  canvass,  and 
the  panorama  once  more  moves. 

And  now  again  for  the  reality. 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.          125 

The  atmosphere  was  cuttingly  cold,  and  the  sky 
filled  with  heavy,  leaden  colored  clouds,  indicating 
a  fall  of  snow.  Everything  out-doors  presented  a 
cheerless  aspect;  the  streets,  the  houses,  the  bare 
and  leafless  trees;  all — even  the  men,  and  women,  and 
children,  rushed  along  at  an  unusual  rate  of  speed, 
as  if  they  fancied  that  by  haste  they  might  escape 
the  sombre  influence  of  the  weather  It  is  thus  that 
we  all  seek  to  run  away  from  the  disagreeables  of 
life,  but  too  seldom  achieve  our  object.  We  may 
chain  the  lightning  to  our  feet,  but  we  cannot  escape 
the  dark  days. 

At  an  early  hour — early  for  that  season  of  the  year, 
at  least— I  was  abroad.  I  had  just  so  much  time  to 
spare,  and  a  great  deal  to  crowd  in  it.  I  therefore 
portioned  out  my  plans  in  accordance  with  my  allot 
ted  time.  It  may  be  well  to  mention,  that  in  conse 
quence  of  Mr.  Ellis'  easy  manner  of  living,  I  was 
enabled  to  frequently  absent  myself  from  the  house 
— in  fact  daily — and  very  often  for  quite  a  conside 
rable  period.  It  was  thus  that  I  managed  to  keep 
up  my  communication  with  Father  Huestace.  With 
many  masters  I  would  have  found  the  task  a  much 
more  difficult  one.  A  good  excuse,  too,  never  failed 
of  securing  me  a  holiday  when  I  desired  it. 


126  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

As  I  have  said,  on  this  day  I  was  early  abroad. 
With  considerable  difficulty  I  succeeded  in  finding 
out  where  Mrs.  Sinclair  resided.  That  accomplished, 
I  directed  my  steps  towards  the  church.  Arrived 
there  I  was  soon  closeted  with  the  priest,  and  in  five 
minutes  had  communicated  to  him  my  success  in 
carrying  out  his  wishes.  Father  Huestace  seemed 
delighted,  and  expressed  himself  in  highly  laudatory 
terms. 

After  receiving  some  further  particulars  and  in 
structions  relating  to  the  contemplated  abduction,  I 
was  dismissed,  with  the  injunction  to  keep  as  strict 
a  watch  as  my  time  would  permit,  and  as  I  could, 
without  exposing  myself  or  exciting  suspicion,  around 
the  house  at  which  Madelon  was  visiting;  and  to 
report  to  the  priest,  should  I  discover  any  movement 
likely  to  interfere  with  the  successful  accomplish 
ment  of  the  scheme  in  view. 

The  Jesuit  and  myself  were  to  meet  again  that 
evening — should  no  unforeseen  circumstance  occur  in 
the  mean  time  to  interfere  with  the  contemplated  ad 
venture — at  a  certain  point  which  he  designated. 

The  hours  passed  quickly  on,  and  found  me  alter 
nately  gliding  between  the  residence  of  Mr.  Ellis 
and  the  home  of  the  Sinclair's.  Notwithstanding, 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  127 

however,  I  got  but  my  trouble  for  my  pains.  At 
length  daylight  passed  away,  and  a  heavy  darkness 
settled  upon  the  great  city.  As  night  approached, 
snow  began  to  fall,  and  each  moment  after,  the  white 
flakes  fell  faster  and  faster — thicker  and  thicker. 
The  streets  were  soon  almost  deserted,  and  at  an 
earlier  hour  than  usual  the  greater  proportion  of  the 
stores  were  closed  up  for  the  night. 

The  Jesuit's  present  plan  for  the  abduction  of  Ma- 
delon,  was  bolder  and  more  daring,  if  any  thing,  than 
the  previous  one.  It  seemed  almost  incredible,  that 
any  human  being  could  be  found  with  audacity  and 
confidence  enough  to  attempt  it.  For  my  own  part, 
I  did  not  believe  it  at  all  practicable,  and  I  grew 
nervous  at  the  thought  of  what  might  prove  the 
finale.  Madelon  might  not  visit  her  friend  ;  illness, 
or  any  one  of  a  dozen  other  causes  might  prevent  her 
— I  had  been  unable  to  discover  any  thing  with  cer 
tainty — then  she  might  return  home  before  the  hour 
specified — and  even,  if  in  these  particulars  all  went 
well,  she  might  still  detect  the  cheat  we  designed 
putting  upon  her.  In  the  event  of  either,  discomfit 
ure  was  certain,  and  a  fatal  exposure  highly  proba 
ble. 

Father  Huestace  and  myself  were  to  meet  i  pon  a 


128  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

certain  corner  about  halfway  between  the  church 
and  the  residence  of  Miss  Sinclair.  Pulling  the 
collar  of  my  surtout  close  up  around  my  ears,  and 
my  fur-cap  down  over  my  eyes,  I  hastened  off,  when 
near  to  the  appointed  hour,  for  our  rendezvous. 

After  a  half  hour's  brisk  trotting — it  was  too  cold 
and  stormy  to  think  of  walking — I  came  within  sight 
of  the  point  agreed  upon.  A  solitary  hack  was  stand 
ing  upon  the  corner  designated,  and  the  rough  look 
ing  driver,  closely  muffled  up,  was  trotting  up  and 
down  the  pavement  beating  his  arms  together  to 
keep  himself  warm.  .  I  was  about  passing  the  ve 
hicle  as  nothing  unusual,  when  a  light  tap  upon  the 
window  glass  arrested  my  attention.  I  stopped. 
Immediately  the  door  was  opened  slightly,  and  a  fa 
miliar  voice,  necessarily  smothered,  called,  "  Joseph !" 

"  Is  that  you,  Father  Huestace  ?"  I  inquired,  in  a 
whisper,  stepping  at  the  same  time  towards  the  hack. 

"Yes,"  said  he,  in  a  tone  barely  audible.  "But 
your  question  was  an  imprudent  one.  Suppose  it 
had  not  been  in,  ,  what  a  clue  some  one  would  have 
had  to  our  identity ;  for,  Joseph,  when  I  fall,  you 
are  likely  to  totter.  As  it  is,  no  harm  is  done,  so 
jump  in  quickly,  for  though  the  night  is  dark  and 
stormy  we  may  be  observed." 


Tke  Jesuit  and  Jiis  Victim.  129 

"Yis,  ye'r  honor,  be  lively,  or  somebody  might  be 
askin',  what  was  goin'  on,"  exclaimed  the  hackman, 
at  the  same  time  gently  pushing  me  into  the  vehicle. 
"  They're  mighty  inquishitive,  these  dom'd  Yankees !" 

By  the  time  the  hackman  had  thus  expressed 
his  opinion  of  the  "  dom'd  Yankees,"  I  was  seated, 
and  the  door  was  closed.  A  moment  after  and  we 
moved  off  at  a  rather  rapid  rate.  For  several  min 
utes  after  starting  a  mutual  silence  ensued.  The 
Jesuit,  buried  in  his  huge  black  cloak,  remained 
with  his  eyes  bent  downward,  doubtless  busy  in 
the  mazes  of  his  scheme ;  and  I  gazed  out  the 
window  at  the  swiftly  falling  snow  flakes. 

At  length  the  priest  lifted  his  eyes  to  my  face, 
and  addressed  me,  evidently  in  the  same  strain  in 
which  he  had  been  last  ruminating ;  and  his  voice 
betokened  a  confidence  it  is  not  at  all  probable 
he  then  really  felt.  He  but  sought,  doubtless,  to 
encourage  me ;  and  probably  his  own  feelings  re- . 
quired  some  little  bolstering. 

"  We  are  now,  my  good  Joseph,  fairly  out  at 
sea,"  he  remarked,  in  an  earnest,  unwavering,  tone. 
"  In  a  brief  space  we  shall  either  be  wrecked  upon 
the  rocks  which  surround  us,  or  snugly  moored  in 

6* 


130  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

a  safe  harbor  with    the    coveted    prize    beyond  the 
chance  of  rescue.     What  think  you  now  ? 

"  Does  your  reverence  actually  want  to  know  ?"  I 
demanded,  doubtful  of  his  real  wish. 

"  Most  assuredly !"   he  responded,  emphatically. 

"  Then  I  must  say  that  I  think  the  first  part  of 
your  prediction  is  most  likely  to  be  verified,"  I 
answered,  plainly. 

"  Not  so,  Joseph,  not  so !"  he  rejoined,  quickly 
"  From  the  first,  daring  as  the  scheme  is,  I  have  felt 
thoroughly  confident  of  a  successful  issue.  In  fact, 
the  very  audacity  of  the  thing  is  its  greatest  defence 
—the  surest  guaranty  of  our  ultimate  triumph.  Not 
one  person  in  a  thousand  would  have  a  suspicion  of 
such  an  attempt  under  such  circumstances ;  and 
upon  that  I  count  largely.  Yes,  Joseph,  there  is 
something  whispers  me,  and  I  believe  its  truth,  that 
this  night  Madelon  Ilawley  will  be  lost  to  her  Pro 
testant  friends — lost  to  her  heretic  lover — lost  to  her 
self;  but  regained,  and  forever,  to  the  Church.  Aye, 
this  night,  that  Church,  which  she  has  so  basely 
deserted,  and  her  hated  friends  mocked,  shall  tri 
umph,  my  good  Joseph.  No  longer  shall  the  vile 
heretics  trample  upon  our  power,  and  lord  it  over 
the  true,  and  faithful  followers,  of  the  only  living 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  131 

Church.  No  !  the  day  of  our  success  has  come ; 
and  the  hour  of  their  downfall  approaches.  The 
labor  of  sixteen  years  shall  this  night  bring  forth 
its  fruit." 

The  priest  paused;  and  I  thought  that  if  the  confi 
dence  of  his  words  was  an  evidence  of  success,  we 
were  indeed  likely  to  come  off  triumphant.  But  the 
abduction  of  Madelon  required  more  than  mere 
words. 

"And  this  night,  too," — he  continued, — '•  Madelon 
shall  begin  that  atonement  which  she  owes  to  the 
Church  for  long  years  of  heresy — to  her  father's  memo 
ry  outraged  by  her  apostacy." 

The  Jesuit's  words,  which  but  always  hid  a  darker 
intent,  struck  coldly  to  my  heart ;  and  even  then,  Pa 
pist  as  I  was — conspirator  as  I  was — cheat  as  I  was, 
I  began  to  feel  some  compunctious  visitings.  At 
that  moment  a  little  human  sympathy  began  to  creep 
into  my  heart,  when  up  before  me  arose  the  shadow 
of  the  crime  I  had  already  committed — my  fear  of 
the  Jesuit's  power — and  my  oath  to  the  Church  of 
Rome,  as  if  to  frighten  from  me  the  generous 
thought. 

"Oath!"  I  exclaimed,  interrupting  the  old  man  in 
his  narration.  "Are  priests  sworn,  too?" 


132  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

u  Yes,"  he  replied,  earnestly.  "  Sworn  to  obey  the 
mother  Church  of  Rome,  as  the  chief  Head  and  ma 
tron  above  all  pretended  Churches  throughout  the 
whole  earth,  and  to  serve  with  zeal  St.  Peter  and  his 
Successors,  as  the  founder  of  the  true  and  ancient 
Catholic  faith,  against  all  heretical  kings,  princes, 
states,  or  powers,  repugnant  to  the  same.  Hereafter 
remember  that.  Priests  are  the  sworn  enemies  of 
everything  that  is  repugnant  to  the  Catholic  faith. 
More,  they  are  bounden  "not  to  declare,  act  or  control 
any  matter  prejudicial  to  the  Church,  and  in  all 
things  to  further  her  interests  more  than  their  own 
earthly  good  and  earthly  pleasure,  as  she  and  her 
Head,  his  Holiness,  are  or  should  be  supreme  over 
everything."  Are  priests  sworn?  Why  oaths — and 
oaths  which  actually  consume  a  man's  identity — ab 
sorb  his  real  self,  and  make  of  him  but  a  mere  walk 
ing  automaton ;  which  turn  from  him  all  sympathy 
for  any  and  everything  outside  his  restricted  bounds 
— which  deprive  him  of  both  mental  and  physical 
liberty,  and  compel  implicit  obedience  to  the  One 
power,  compose  the  very  foundation  of  the  Romish 
superstructure.  It  is  in  this  that  the  papal  hierar 
chy  is  strong — is  far-reaching — is  infallible; — it  is 
in  this,  that  she  can,  and  does,  frequently,  accomplish 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.^         133 

ends  and  purposes  which  astonish  and  startle,  and 
often  curse  the  world.  The  word  of  one  man,  for 
good  or  bad,,  and  bad  always,  in  that  the  purpose  is 
not  for  humanity's  sake,  but  for  the  benefit  of  tho 
One  power,  and  therefore  utterly  selfish,  sets  the 
whole  vast  complicated  machine  silently  but  surely 
to  work. 

But  enough  of  this,  or  my  feeble  and  worn  ener 
gies  will  be  entirely  consumed  before  I  have  half 
completed  my  narrative.  You  have  yet  much  to 
hear — much  that  will  better  prove  what  I  mean 
than  all  I  could  say.  Where  was  I?  Ah,  yes,  I 
remember. 

There  was  a  momentary  pause  when  the  priest 
had  finished  the  expression  of  his  very  confident 
opinion.  And  still  the  vehicle  rolled  rapidly  along. 

"  But  may  not  your  reverence  be  too  sanguine  ?" 
I,  at  length,  inquired.  "  These  Protestants  are  eagle- 
eyed,  while  our  adventure  is  at  best,  as  you  your 
self  admit,  reckless  and  audacious." 

"It  is  all  that,  Joseph," — said  Father  Huestace — 
"  apd  yet  not  necessarily  impossible.  As  desperate 
schemes  have  heretofore  been  adopted,  and  carried 
to  successful  issues.  It  wants  confidence  more  than 
anything  else — confidence  in  one's  own  innate  power 


134:  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

and  ability.  That  more  than  any  other  quality 
makes  a  great  man— elevates  him  above  and  beyond 
the  common  herd.  As  dangers  and  difficulties  in 
crease  and  multiply,  such  men  rise  with  the  occasion, 
boldly  grappling  and  overthrowing  every  opposing 
element.  While  the  weak-hearted  by  their  indeci 
sion  and  fear  court  defeat,  they,  with  a  superior  con 
fidence,  which  is  but  a  species  of  courage,  press  on 
and  eventually  conquer  a  glorious  victory.  Such  a 
man,  in  a  measure,  Joseph,  am  I.  Not  a  hero,  nor 
yet,  probably,  a  great  man  in  any  manner ;  but  still 
one  who  has  the  mind  to  conceive,  and  the  con 
fidence  to  execute,  what  to  others  would  appear 
utterly  impossible.  No,  no,  Joseph — my  spirit  is  in 
domitable.  The  toil  and  trouble  of  many  years, 
with  the  certainty  of  several  failures  staring  me 
right  in  the  face,  does  not  now  damp  my  ardor  or 
impair  that  confidence  I  have  in  final  success.  There 
is  not  room  enough  in  my  heart  for  a  doubt  to  creep 
in.  And  yet  confidence,  in  every  case,  requires  auxili 
aries — in  the  present,  caution  and  cunning.  Too  san 
guine,  my  good  Joseph  !  Why,  even  the  weather  favors 
us  again  ;  a  better  night  we  could  not  have  selected, 
if  we  ourselves  had  had  the  choosing.  In  fact,  it  was 
the  probability — almost  certainty — of  just  such  a 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  135 

night,  that  influenced  me  in  adopting  the  measures 
I  have.  The  weather  has  answered  all  my  hopes 
and  anticipations." 

"  But  should  we  fail  and  be  detected — for  despite 
the  arguments  of  your  reverence,  I  believe  there  is 
every  chance — what  then  ?"  I  inquired,  somewhat 
anxious  to  know  what  the  priest  contemplated,  if 
anything,  in  such  a  contingency. 

"  If  the  former — withdraw  and  await  another  op 
portunity  ;  if  the  latter,  flee  the  country !"  he  An 
swered,  with  that  readiness  which  betokened  a  fami 
liarity  with  the  subject  in  all  its  bearings.  "  There 
are  other  lands,  Joseph — and  lands  where  the  Church 
acknowledges  no  law  but  her  own  sovereign  will; 
obeys  no  master's  but  her  own  Superior's ;  and 
bends  to  no  circumstances,  but  of  her  own  making ; 
and  where  not  one,  from  the  king  upon  his  throne, 
to  the  beggar  on  the  highway,  dares  think  or  act  in 
dependent  of  her  expressed  or  even  implied  will. 
There,  Joseph,  we  can  find  a  refuge — there  the  broad 
wings  of  the  Church  will  protect  us  from  the  violation 
of  all  laws  but  those  of  her  own  making.  But  I  do 
not  anticipate  any  such  result;  perform  but  your 
part  properly,  and  the  girl  will  be  in  our  keeping, 
and  without  any  danger  of  discovery  to  ourselves." 


136  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

After  that  we  both  again  dropped  into  silence  ; 
for  the  last  declaration  of  the  priest  was  unanswer 
able.  And  still  the  vehicle  rolled  along  quietly,  and 
now  somewhat  slowly,  in  consequence  of  the  fast  in 
creasing  bed  of  snow ;  notwithstanding  the  driver 
was  evidently  urging  his  horses  onward  somewhat 
smartly  ^ 

"  But  this  hackman ! '  I  exclaimed,  in  a  few  mo 
ments,  as  the  thought  suddenly  struck  me  that  he 
at  least  would  soon  see  that  treachery  was  a-foot, 
and  possibly  betray  us. 

Bear  in  mind  that  I  was  only  now  learning  the 
minute  particulars  of  the  scheme ;  heretofore  the 
priest  had  only  thought  proper  to  enlarge  me 
upon  a  portion  of  it. 

"  Will  be  as  secret  as  though  death  had  closed 
his  lips  forever!"  said  the  Jesuit,  in  answer  to  my 
question.  "  He  is  the  same  who  waited  my  bidding 
on  the  night  of  the  conflagration.  It  is  not  the  first, 
or  the  second  time,  that  he  has  done  me  a  good 
service.  He  is  perfectly  familiar  with  all  our 
schemes,  Joseph ;  and  is  a  valuable  adjunct  to 
those  who  can  trust  him.  I  can." 

"  All !"  I  exclaimed,  looking  at  the  priest,  amazed, 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  13 7 

and  wondering  that  he  should  trust  such  a  creature 
with  so  weighty  a  secret. 

"  But  he — is — my— slave  /"  rejoined  the  Jesuit, 
with  a  strong  accentuation. 

The  reply  was  all-sufficient.  Indeed  I  might 
have  known  as  much,  had  I  been  at  that  moment 
half  as  clear-headed  as  my  companion.  His  slave ! 
The  words  guaranteed  the  man's  silence. 

•(  Years  ago," — continued  the  priest — "  this  man 
had  a  gay  and  pretty  wife,  of  whom  he  at  length 
grew  so  jealous  that  in  one  of  his  mad  fits — bru 
talized,  too,  by  strong  drink — he  murdered  her.  I 
chanced — how  it  matters  not — to  be  a  partial  wit 
ness  to  the  deed,  and  the  only  one.  I  saw  him  as  he 
stood  there,  bending  over  the  bleeding  and  mutilated 
form  of  his  young  wife,  his  hands  and  clothes  dyed 
in  her  warm  red  blood,  and  no  obligation  of  the 
Confessional  stood  between  me  and  the  secret.  I 
could  have  sent  him  to  the  gallows ;  but  I  did  better 
—I  made  him  my  slave.  I  can  trust  him. 

"  Was  he  not  arrested  ?"  I  inquired,  nervously. 

"Yes,"  answered  the  priest — "and  thrown  into 
prison.  A  long  and  tedious  trial  ensued,  but  the  evi 
dence  for  the  prosecution  proved  unsatisfactory,  and 
we  finally  swore  him  clear  Even  to  this  day  he 


138  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

trembles  at  the  least  allusion  to  the  circumstance.  I 
can  trust  him.  A  hint  from  me,  and  he  would  again 
murder.  But  stop,  we  must  be  near  the  house  from 
the  length  of  time  that  has  elapsed  since  we  started." 

The  priest  lowered  one  of  the  side  windows,  and 
shading  his  eyes  with  his  hands,  peered  out. 

"  'Tis  a  miserable  night,  Joseph ;  but  not  one  at 
which  we  should  complain,"  he  muttered,  as  a  gust 
of  wind  drove  a  mass  of  the  cold  flakes  violently  into 
his  face,  and  compelled  him  to  draw  back,  and  close 
the  window. 

After  proceeding  some  little  distance  further,  the 
driver"  bent  down  to  one  of  the  windows,  and  tapping 
against  the  glass,  hailed  us. 

"  Whist,  y'er  riverence  ;  all  right — here  we  are  ; 
I  know  the  house,"  he  exclaimed,  in  a  whisper. 
"Howly  Mother,  how  it  snows!"  he  continued,  a  mo 
ment  after,  and  in  a  louder  key. 

"  Be  prudent,  Patrick ;  as  you  value  body  and  soul, 
be  prudent!"  muttered  the  priest,  sternly.  '"Follow 
my  directions,  and  do  neither  more  nor  less-  you  will 
not  then  go  astray.  Now  drive  up  to  the  house." 

The  priest  had  again  lowered  the  window,  when 
the  hackman,  or  Patrick,  as  I  shall  call  him,  tapped 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  139 

upon  the  glass ;  at  the  conclusion  of  the  foregoing 
speech  he  drew  it  up  once  more. 

Directly  the  vehicle  scraped  against  the  curbstone, 
and  Patrick  expertly  alighted,  again  shook  the  snow 
from  his  shaggy  overcoat,  and  threw  open  the  door, 
at  the  same  time  making  as  much  noise  in  that  man 
ner,  as  he  conveniently  could.  All  this  was  done,  too, 
with  a  confidence,  that  would  have  given  the  lie  to 
any  suspicion  of  a  dishonest  motive.  Confidence  is 
indeed  a  great  conqueror,  and  has  won  many  a  des 
perate  battle. 

It  was  still  snowing,  and  the  atmosphere  was  al 
most  impervious  from  the  falling  flakes.  I  peeped 
out  and  found  that  we  were  standing  directly  in 
front  of  the  Sinclair  mansion,  where,  of  course,  we 
calculated  upon  finding  Madelon.  The  lower  range 
of  windows  were  tightly  closed,  and  we  could  see 
nothing ;  but  as  we  drove  up,  the  sound  of  pleasant 
voices  greeted  us  from  within.  The  priest  listened 
for  a  moment,  and  then  remarked; 

"  Madelon  is  here,  Joseph ;    rest  assured  all's  well." 

"Yes,  that  ends  well,"  I  replied,  naturally; 
though  hardly  conscious,  from  a  multitude  of  other 
thoughts,  of  what  I  was  saying. 

"  True,  Joseph ;    and  if  this  ends  not  well,  call  me 


140  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

no  prophet,"  responded  the  Jesuit.  "But  drawback 
a  moment" — I  had  bent  forward — "  and  you,  Patrick, 
stand  still  where  you  are." 

The  other  stately  mansions  upon  both  sides  of  the 
street  were  also  closed  up ;  and  altogether  the  whole 
square  presented  a  dark  and  deserted  appearance. 
Even  the  gas-light  upon  the  corner  burned  dimly,  and 
through  the  falling  snow  flakes  looked  like  a  little, 
twinkling  star.  All  was  still,  and  dark,  and  lonely ; 
and  I  myself  felt  satisfied  that  we  were  not  likely 
to  be  disturbed  by  the  eye  of  idle  curiosity;  for  on 
such  a  night 

" — few  walked   about, 
And  'twas  not  pleasure   called  them  out, 
But  some   necessity   or  ill, 
Had   sent  them  forth  against  their  will." — W.  E.  BINDER. 

According  to  the  priest's  directions  I  drew  back 
into  the  vehicle  without  uttering  another  word. 
Father  Hucstace  reconnoitered  the  premises  from  the 
basement  to  the  roof,. and  I  felt"assured  that  then  at 
least,  if  really  not  before,  he  began  to  appreciate  the 
importance  of  the  task  he  had  undertaken — began  to 
realize  that  success,  in  a  great  measure,  depended 
upon  the  girl's  thoughtlessness  and  credulity. 

We  where  then  sitting  upon  the  side  of  the  hack 
nearest  the  Sinclair  residence,  each  of  us  occupying 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  141 

a  separate  seat.  Directly  the  priest  withdrew  to  the 
off  side,  at  the  same  time  bidding  me  to  continue  in 
the  position  I  already  occupied.  I  obeyed.  He  then 
let  fall  the  crimson  silk  curtain  to  the  side-window 
near  him,  thus  enveloping  the  interior  of  the  vehicle 
in  almost  impenetrable  darkness. 

All  this  had  really  occupied  but  a  very  few  min 
utes  after  the  driver  alighted. 

"Now,  Joseph,  be  on  the  alert,"  said  the  -priest, 
addressing  me.  Then  turning  to  the  hackman  he 
whispered ; 

" Patrick,  ring  the  bell."' 

"  All  right,  ye'r  riverence,"  responded  the  man,  as 
he  turned  away  from  the  carriage,  and  began  to  as 
cend  the  high  steps  of  the  building. 

That  my  heart  sank  within  my  bosom  it  is  need 
less  to  deny.  I  never  was  a  coward,  and  yet  I  trem 
bled  then. 

A  female  domestic  almost  instantly  answered  Pa 
trick's  bold  and  confident  summons ;  but  he,  instead 
of  immediately  withdrawing  from  the  door,  as  he 
should  have  done,  tipped  his  hat  obsequiously,  and 
was  evidently  preparing  to  address  the  maid.  The 
priest  quickly  bent  forward,  and  his  painful  anxiety 
was  manifested  by  his  short,  quick,  breathing. 


142  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

"Maledictions!"  he  hissed  out  almost  inaudibly; 
immediately  comprehending  Patrick's  intention,  and 
the  effect  it  would  be  likely  to  produce.  "  Speak,  Jo 
seph,  speak !"  he  continued,  turning  to  me  with  much 
excitement,  and  grasping  my  arm  nervously.  "  The 
rascal's  tongue  will  ruin  us ;  and  I  forgot  to  caution 
him.  Speak!  Speak!" 

"  Inform  Miss  Hawley,  that  her  cousin  is  waiting 
for  her !"  I  exclaimed,  quickly,  readily  assuming  the 
exact  expression  of  the  gentleman  referred  to. 

Patrick  appeared  to  take  the  hint,  upon  hearing 
another  address  the  girl,  and  immediately  descended 
the  steps. 

"  Her  cousin  Charles,  I  presume,"  said  the  girl, 
entirely  led  astray  by  the  deception.  Even  the  priest 
started  at  the  sound  of  my  voice,  and  muttered  "  ad 
mirable  !" 

"  The  same,"  I  replied. 

"  Said  I  not  that  she  was  here !"  whispered  the 
priest,  exultingly.  "  Now,  Joseph,  let  the  girl  obtain 
a  slight  glimpse  of  your  person,  but  keep  your  face 
well  shaded." 

I  unhesitatingly  did  as  he  directed  me. 

"  Will  you  not  alight,  sir  ?"  the  girl  continued,  ad 
dressing  me  almost  at  the  same  time  with  the  priest. 


The   Jesuit  and  his  Victim.          143 

"No,  not  this  evening,"  I  replied.  "Merely  an 
nounce  that  I  have  come." 

With  a  "  yes  sir,"  the  girl  closed  the  door — in  con 
sequence  of  the  storm,  I  suppose — and  disappeared 
within  the  house. 

And  still  the  feathery  flakes  came  down  just  as 
fast,  and  just  as  thick. 

Immediately  upon  the  girl's  disappearance,  the 
priest,  leaning  slightly  forward,  called  to  Patrick. 

"  Whist,  ye'r  riverence,  here  I  am !"  responded  the 
mendacious  rascal,  springing  to  the  door,  and  thrust 
ing  his  murderous  looking  countenance  into  the 
vehicle. 

"  Keep  that  mouth  of  your's  shut,  or  your  Irish 
tongue  will  betray  us.  You  would  have  ruined  us 
but  a  moment  since,  had  you  have  spoken." 
-  «  Ye'r  riverence  did'nt  order  me  not  to  spake,  and 
we  always  do.  Sure  an'  its  the  custom,  and  I  thought 
ye  wanted  me  to,  or  ilse  ye  would  have  towld  me !" 
Patrick  replied,  very  humbly. 

"  I  suppose  I  am  to  blame  ;  but  mind,  don't  speak 
another  word  until  I  command  you.  Do  you  under 
stand  that  ?"  cried  the  priest,  with  the  tone  and 
manner  of  a  thorough  tyrant. 


144  Madelon  Howley,  or 

"  Yis,  ye'r  riverence,"  responded  his  minion.  "  I'm 
dumb.  Enything  ilse,  ye'r  riverence  ?" 

"  Stand  aside  !  Hush  !"  muttered  the  priest,  again 
withdrawing  into  the  off  corner. 

The  crisis  had  come. 

At  that  moment  the  door  of  the  house  was  re-open 
ed,  and  Madelon,  radiant  in  the  most  ineffable  smiles, 
entered  the  hall,  accompanied  on  the  one  side  by  her 
friend  Anna — at  least  so  I  judged — and  on  the  other 
by  no  less  a  person  than  the  veritable  and  mysterious 
Frank.  I  recognized  him  at  the  first  glance,  although 
I  had  never  seen  him  since  the  day  of  the  excommu 
nication. 

"  Observe  the  young  gentleman,  your  reverence," 
I  said,  turning  to  the  priest.  "  'Tis  he — Frank !" 

"He  here!"  muttered  the  Jesuit,  straining  his  gaze 
towards  the  door.  "  This  begins  to  look  as  if  my  sus 
picions  were  correct.  This  may  be  the  lover,  Joseph ! 
Doubtless,  is !  We  shall  see." 

I  did  not  reply  to  the  priest,  nor  did  he  volunteer 
any  further  remarks  at  that  time. 

Behind  Madelon  and  the  other  two  appeared  an 
elderly  lady  and  gentleman,  and  further  back  several 
domestics  were  clustered  in  the  hall.  In  one  light 
ning  glance  I  took  in  the  number  and  position  of  the 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.          145 

whole  party.  The  abduction  of  Madelon  under  the 
very  eyes  of  so  many  people,  was  at  once  a  bold  and 
villainous  undertaking,  and  under  such  circumstances 
it  was  but  natural  to  count  the  chances  of  success. 


7* 


146  Madelon  Hawley,  or 


CHAPTER     VIII. 

MADELON  walked  forward  to  the  front  top  step 
and  peered  at  the  hack,  but  it  was  too  dark  and 
stormy  to  see  within,  and  suspicion  had  not  sharp 
ened  her  eyesight. 

Patrick  stood  beside  the  vehicle,  holding  the  door 
open  with  one  hand,  and  blowing  the  fingers  of 
the  other  to  keep  them  warm.  At  that  moment 
his  actions  were  beyond  suspicion. 

The  priest  had  sunken  back  in  the  off  corner, 
and  was  completely  hidden  from  view. 

I  occupied  a  seat  near  the  door ;  but  I  had  so 
arranged  myself  that  not  even  the  most  prying  eye 
could  have  caught  the  slightest  glimpse  of  any 
portion  of  my  person  by  which  I  could  be  recog 
nized. 

"  Is  that  you,  cousin  Charley  ?"   Madelon  inquired, 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  14T 

as  she  stood  there  leaning  slightly  out  the  door, 
with  her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  carriage. 

"  Certainly,  Madelon,  who  else  should  it  be  ?"  I 
answered,  boldly ;  still,  of  course,  maintaining  my 
assumed  character.  "  Come,  now,  make  haste" — I 
continued — "  for  it  is  getting  late,  and  the  streets 
are  in  a  miserable  condition  for  travelling." 

At  the  first  sound  of  Madelon's  musical  voice 
the  priest  had  clutched  my  arm  with  nervous  anx 
iety.  As  I  concluded  the  foregoing  speech  he 
withdrew  his  hand,  and  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief. 
Madelon  evidently  did  not  detect  the  counterfeit. 
And  that  was  owing,  doubtless,  to  three  causes  com 
bined  ;  my  very  natural  imitation — the  buzzing 
sound,  if  I  may  so  style  it,  of  the  driving  storm; 
and  her  freedom  from  suspicion  at  the  moment. 

"  Will  you  not  come  into  the  house,  Mr.  Haw- 
ley  ?"  inquired  Madelon's  friends,  simultaneously. 

"  Thank  you,  not  to  night,"  I  replied.  "  I  have 
been  suffering  with  a  very  severe  cold  during  the 
greater  portion  of  the  day,  and  it  would  not  be  pru 
dent  for  me  to  expose  myself  too  much  in  such  a  storm 
as  this.  In  fact,  I  should  not  have  come  out  at  all 
to-night,  but  under  the  peculiar  circumstances  which 


148  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

surround  Madelon.  You  can,  doubtless,  appreciate 
the  necessity  that  brings  me  forth." 

"  Such  being  the  case,  Charley,  it  certainly  would 
be  very  ungenerous  to  insist  upon  your  alighting," 
remarked  the  young  man,  Miss  Sinclair's  brother, 
Madelon's  lover,  and  young  Hawley's  intimate  friend, 
as  after  circumstances  developed. 

11  Better  bathe  your  feet  in  warm  water,  and  take 
some  hot  ginger-tea  before  you  go  to  bed,  Mr.  Haw- 
ley,"  exclaimed  the  old  lady,  in  the  rear,  kindly. 
"  You'll  feel  the  better  for  it,  when  you  get  up." 

"  Don't  get  out,  Charles,"  continued  Madelon, 
sweetly  ;  u  I  will  be  ready  in  a  moment.  I'm  sorry 
that  you  are  not  well,  indeed,  I  am !" 

There  was  an  instant's  pause ;  when,  all  at  once,  a 
sudden  thought,  and  it  might  have  been  a  slightly 
suspicious  one,  seemed  to  enter  her  mind,  and  she  ex 
claimed, — 

"  But,  cousin  Charles,  if  you  have  just  come  from 
home,  why  did  you  not  bring  our  own  carriage,  and 
not  a  public  conveyance,  as  I  perceive  you  have? 
You  know  how  aunt  disapproves  of  such  a  course." 

I  could  feel  the  priest  tremble,  for  the  question 
was  such  an  abrupt  one,  and  so  little  foreseen. 

I  knew  that  all  now  depended  upon  my    answer, 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  149 

and  the  conviction  seemed  to  render  my  mind  as 
clear  as  a  crystal.  In  a  single  moment  I  reviewed 
every  circumstance  that  I  had  discovered  in  con 
nection  with  the  family ;  and  there  were  a  number 
of  trifling  things  that  had  fallen  under  my  obser 
vation  ;  and  almost  without  any  effort  on  my  own 
part  an  answer  suggested  itself.  My  knowledge  of 
how  matters  stood  immediately  satisfied  me  of  its 
excellence,  and  I  hastened  to  reply; — 

"  Why,  because  mother  and  Emma" — tne  latter  was 
young  Hawley's  wife — "  were  called  away  to  see  old 
Mrs.  Darling" — she  was  an  aged  lady  who  lived  some 
squares  distant,  and  for  whom  the  Hawley  family  pro 
fessed  a  strong  liking — "who  is  said  to  be  dying. 
Poor  old  soul,  she  has  had  another  attack  of  rheuma 
tism  in  the  stomach.  The  doctor  didn't  think  that 
she  could  possibly  survive  it  this  time.  The  folks 
went,  of  course  ;  and  as  they  didn't  get  back  in  time, 
and  it  was  impossible  to  tell  how  late  their  visit 
might  be  prolonged,  I  secured  the  services  of  this 
man — whom  I  know — and  here  I  am.'' 

<•  Poor  old  Mrs.  Darling,"  exclaimed  Madelon,  sym 
pathetically.  "How  I  pity  her!  A  dear,  good  soul, 
whose  loss  many  will  have  reason  to  deplore.  Some- 


150  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

body  get  my  hood  and  shawl — quick !  I'll  be  ready 
in  a  few  moments,  cousin  Charley !" 

The  priest,  during  this  conversation,  had  remained 
as  immoveable  as  a  statue  ;  but  as  Madelon  conclud 
ed,  he  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief.  The  girl's  words 
re-assured  him. 

My  excuse  was  a  plausible  one,  and,  you  will  admit, 
admirably  conceived  :  though  a  baser  lie  the  brain  of 
man  could  not  well  have  concocted.  The  girl's  suspi 
cion — if  indeed  it  had  reached  that  point,  was  at 
once  allayed,  as  her  subsequent  remark  fully  betok 
ened.  The  excuse  was  perfectly  natural,  too ;  and 
to  that  may  be  attributed  its  complete  success. 

You  must  bear  in  mind  that  during  this  interview 
we  in  the  hack  could  hardly  be  seen  by  those  stand 
ing  in  the  hall;  while  they,  in  consequence  of  the 
light  behind  them,  could  be  pretty  well  distinguished 
by  us.  At  the  same  time  the  misty  barrier  of  fall 
ing  snow-flakes  contributed  its  share  towards  obscur 
ing  the  prospect  of  both  parties.  But  of  the  two 
we  had  a  decided  advantage.  At  the  best  they  could 
but  see  the  mere  outlines  of  my  form,  while  we  were 
enabled,  though  indistinctly,  to  observe  every  move 
ment  which  they  made. 

During  this  time  some  three  or  four  men  and  boy? 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  151 

had  passed  up  and  down  the  street,  all — except  one 
little  fellow  who  wished  that  he  had  a  carriage  to 
take  him  home — without  so  much  as  even  looking  at 
us.  The  sight  was  nothing  unusual,  and  it  was  quite 
enough  for  them  to  do  to  make  their  way  against  the 
storm. 

In  a  few  moments  the  domestic  re-appeared  with 
Madelon's  equipments. 

The  party,  in  the  mean  time,  had  withdrawn  a 
little  further  into  the  hall,  and  the  old  folks,  having 
bidden  their  guest  "  good  night,"  had  retired  into  the 
parlor.  • 

Frank,  and  his  sister,  and  Madelon,  were  now  alone, 
the  domestics  having  also  cleared  the  hall  at  the  mo 
ment  the  old  folks  retired. 

The  priest  now  bent  over  towards  the  door  of  the 
vehicle. 

"  Hist !  they  are  talking !"  he  whispered,  catching 
me  by  the  arm.  "  Listen !" 

I  bent  down  and  turned  my  ear  towards  the  door 
of  the  house. 

Some  indifferent  conversation  ensued  between  the 
three  in  relation  to  a  return  of  the  visit,  when  the 
two  girls  whispered  each  other  "  good  night."  Then 
their  hands  were  clasped ;  and  their  lips  met  in  a 


152  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

parting  salutation.  And  then  there  was  another  kiss, 
and  a  manly  voice,  exclaimed, — 

"Good  night,  dear  Madelon,  and  may  God  have 
you  in  His  care  forever  and  ever.  Ere  long,  sweet, 
we  shall  not  meet  to  part  thus.  The  day  of  our  hap 
piness—of  our  joy,  is  yet  to  come.  A  little  while 
and  your  home  shall  be  mine — your  friends  mine — 
your  enemies  mine.  Good  night !  Good  night !" 

The  Jesuit's  breath  came  thick  and  fast ;  and  even 
in  the  darkness,  I  could  see  his  black  eyes  sparkle 
fiercely.  "  What  sort  of  man  is  this  ?" — I  wondered, 
in  my  own  mind,  as  I  involuntarily  shrank  at  his 
fierce  look. 

"As  I  imagined,  Joseph,"  he  whispered.  "The 
lover — we  have  him !  Maledictions  on  him !  but  his 
fist  is  heavy,  as  I  have  reason  to  know." 

The  party  now  moved  towards  the  door,  and  I 
thought  it  best  that  I  should  again  be  heard. 

"  Come,  Madelon,  make  haste !  and  Frank,  you 
rascal,  don't  you  detain  her!"  I  cried.  "It  may  be 
fine  fun  for  you  folks,  standing  there  in  the  hall, 
but  it's  mighty  dull  sport  to  me  out  here.  Why 
I'm  almost  frozen  to  an  icicle.  If  I  had  imagined 
that  you  were  going  to  be  so  long,  I  should  have 


The  Jesuit  and  Ms  Victim.  153 

ventured  out  in  the  first  place,  rather  than  sit 
here.  Ugh!" 

Five  minutes  before  I  should  not  have  dared  to 
make  that  observation. 

"  Keerj  your  temper,  Charley,  and  remember,  that 
you  were  once  a  young  man  yourself,"  cried  Frank, 
laughing. 

"Yes;  but  even  then  I  had  some  consideration 
for  others  beside  myself,"  I  rejoined,  in  a  jesting 
tone.  "So,  none  of  your  jokes  at  my  expense.  Re 
member,  I  am  six  months  your  senior,  and  conse- 
sequently  have  a  right  to  some  respect." 

"Now,  cousin  Charley,  only  don't  grumble," — 
chimed  in  Madelon — "and  I  promise,  when  we  get 
home,  to  mix  you  a  bowl  of  the  excellent  tea, 
which  good  Mrs.  Sinclair  recommended. 

"0,  confound  your  tea!"  I  exclaimed,  apparently 
half  in  jest,  and  half  in  earnest.  "I'll  have  none 
of  it;  and  if  I  get  worse,  I  shall  hold  somebody 
responsible,  that's  all!" 

While  yet  I  was  speaking,  Madelon  began  to 
descend  the  steps,  young  Sinclair  close  beside  her, 
covering  her  with  an  umbrella.  Anna  remained 
standing  in  the  door,  and  both  the  girls  continued 
to  chatter  away  like  two  magpies.  Patrick,  with 


154  Madelon  Hawley,  or 


a  forethought  that  betokened  a  familiarity  with 
such  scenes,  drew  the  collar  of  his  great  coat  close 
up  around  his  face,  in  such  a  manner  as  to  com 
pletely  conceal  it  from  view.  The  priest  crouched 
yet  closer  in  the  dark  corner,  and  I  turned  my 
face  rather  more  towards  the  interior  of  the  vehicle. 
We  were  thus  pretty  effectually  shaded  from  view. 

Madelon  and  Frank  had  reached  the  door  of  the 
hack,  and  the  girl's  foot  was  upon  the  bottom-step. 

If  she  had  but  looked  within ! — but  why  specu 
late  ? — her  mind  was  too  deeply  absorbed  in  other  mat 
ters,  and  too  free  from  suspicion  to  pursue  such  a 
course.  Turning  round  towards  the  house — thus  pre 
senting  her  back  to  the  priest  and  myself — she  cheer 
fully  bade  Anna  and  Frank  u  good  night,"  at  the  same 
time  shaking  hands  with  the  latter. 

Then  disengaging  herself  from  the  embrace  of  her 
lover,  she  quickly  entered  the  vehicle,  and  Patrick 
seizing  the  door,  interposed  his  form  between  it  and 
Frank,  who  was  thus  compelled  to  draw  back  a  step 
or  two 

"Good  night,  all!"  I  cried,  quickly,  and  while  yet 
Madelon  was  getting  in. 

"  Good  night !"  returned  Frank  and  his  sister,  in 
the  same  breath. 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  155 

"  Be  careful  of  Madelon,  for  my  sake,"  continued 
the  former. 

All  this  transpired  before  Madelon  had  attempted 
to  seat  herself,  or  had  had  an  opportunity  of  observ 
ing  anything  in  particular;  not  occupying  as  much 
time  as  I  have  been  in  telling  it.  It  took  but  a 
moment,  seemingly. 

The  last  words  had.  not  yet  fallen  from  the  lips 
of  young  Sinclair,  and  the  dress  of  Madelon  had 
barely  disappeared  within  the  vehicle,  when  Patrick 
closed  the  door,  and  leaped  upon  his  seat,  with  the 
agility  of  a  monkey. 

At  the  same  instant  the  girl  discovered  her  error 
— at  a  glance  seemed  to  comprehend  the  trap  into 
which  she  had  fallen,  and  her  danger.  She  would 
have  screamed,  but  the  priest  quickly  encircled  her 
with  his  arms,  and  placing  his  handkerchief  to  her 
face,  she  sank  down,  speechless  and  insensible. 

"  What  have  you  done  to  her  ?"  I  inquired,  quickly. 

"  Nothing  that  will  harm  her,"  he  answered,  has 
tily.  "  The  handkerchief  is  saturated  with  a  drug 
which  once  inhaled,  produces  instantaneous  stupe 
faction.  We  have  many  such  useful  secrets.  I 
knew  that  it  would  be  needed,  and  so  prepared 
myself.  What  would  have  been  the  consequence 


156  Maddon  Hawley,  or 

just  this  moment,  but  for  my  forethought  ?  Why,  we 
should  both  of  us,  probably,  have  occupied  a  pri 
son's  cell  long  before  morning.  But  now,  all  is  se 
cure,  and  Madelon  will  not  awake  before  to-morrow." 

At  the  moment  the  girl  fell  into  unconscious 
ness,  and  previous  to  the  passage  of  the  foregoing 
remarks,  the  vehicle  drove  off,  leaving  Anna  stand 
ing  in  the  door,  and  Frank  about  half  way  up  the 
steps,  neither  of  them  dreaming  of  the  villainous 
outrage  to  which  they  had  been  unconscious  wit 
nesses. 

Patrick  perfectly  understood  now  what  was  re 
quired  at  his  hands ;  and  while  in  sight  of  the 
house  drove  along  at  what  might  be  supposed  a 
very  natural  rate  of  speed ;  but  immediately  upon 
turning  the  corner  into  the  next  street  he  lashed 
his  horses  up,  and  dashed  on  as  fast  as  the  snow 
would  permit. 

Thus  we  proceeded  for  a  considerable  distance, 
the  silence  only  once  broken,  and  then  by  Father 
Huestace. 

"  Was  I  not  a  prophet,  Joseph  ?"  he  demanded. 
Qxultingly. 

"  Even  so,  your  reverence,"  I  replied,  briefly,  and 
nothing  more  was  said. 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim. 


Finally,  the  direction  we  were  taking  led  me  to 
inquire  our  destination. 

"To  my  house,  of  course,"  the  priest  replied,  in 
a  quick  whisper,  as  if  he  feared  that  the  poor,  in 
sensate  girl  reposing  in  his  arms,  had  yet  the  power 
to  betray  him. 

Although  not  previously,  I  now  began,  in  my  own 
mind,  to  question  the  propriety  of  this  step.  "  If 
indeed,"  —  I  thought  —  "his  object  is  principally,  as 
he  has  expressed  it,  to  remove  her  from  her  Pro 
testant  friends,  and  their  influence,  why  not  con 
ceal  her  in  the  nunnery,  a  much  more  secret  and 
suitable  place,  and  far  more  safe  for  the  girl." 
These  reflections  wound  up  with  the  very  natural 
question,  which  I  put,  mentally,  to  myself,  but 
could  not  satisfactorily  answer  ;  —  "  Does  he  design 
her  any  personal  violence  or  outrage  ?" 

At  length  I  ventured  to  remark,  referring  to  my 
previous  question,  and  the  Jesuit's  reply, 

"  Is  it  prudent,  your  reverence  ?  May  you  not  be 
discovered  ?" 

The  last  half  of  my  question  was  prompted,  not  so 
much  from  the  fear  it  expressed,  as  from  a  desire  to 
conceal  the  motive  of  my  inquiry 

"  Discovered  !    No  !"  responded  the  priest,  with  ab- 


158  Madelon  Ilawley,  or 

rupt  sternness.  "  Ere  this  people  have  died  there,  as 
you  well  know,  and  the  world  outside  has  heen 
none  the  wiser.  And  if  I  were  discovered,  it  would  be 
but  by  those  who  would  fear  to  speak  of  what  they 
had  seen— almost  to  think  of  it.  For  the  prudence 
of  such  a  course,  Joseph,  I  only  am  responsible.  For 
yourself,  work  and  question  not ;  then  we  are  .safe." 

I  thought  that  from  his  decision,  outrageous  as 
it  might  be,  there  was  no  appeal,  and  so  said  no 
more.  Fear  of  the  priest,  and  a  deep  adherance  to 
the  Church,  for  a  time  made  me  a  very  pliant  tool. 

After  that  we  both  continued  silent  for  the  re 
mainder  of  the  ride. 

At  length  we  arrived  in  the  vicinity  of  the  church; 
but  instead  of  proceeding  to  the  front  entrance,  Pa 
trick  drove  up  the  small  street  in  the  rear,  and 
stopped  a  little  south  of  the  back  entrance,  which, 
as  I  have  before  remarked,  was  through  the  grave 
yard.  The  snow,  which  was  now  pretty  deep,  pre 
vented  the  approach  of  the  vehicle  from  being  heard. 
Even  had  it  been  otherwise,  it  would  scarcely  have 
excited  curiosity,  as  the  street  contained  but  a  small 
number  of  little,  rickety  tenements,  which  were  in 
habited  by  a  brood  of  squalid,  ignorant  Irish,  any 
one  of  whom  would  have  assisted  the  priest  in  car- 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.          159 

rying  out  whatever  scheme  he  might  have  proposed. 
Thus  did  everything  conspire  to  favor  the  Jesuit's 
desires,  and  contribute  its  mite  towards  his  success. 

Patrick  quietly  alighted  from  his  seat,  and  for  some 
moments  stood  perfectly  still,  cautiously  looking  down 
towards  the  large  thoroughfare,  from  which  we  had 
turned,  when  we  entered  the  cross-street  we  were  then  in. 

At  length,  apparently  assured  by  his  scrutiny,  he 
gently  threw  open  the  door  of  the  hack,  and  whis 
pered  to  the  priest ; — 

"All  right,  ye'r  riverence;  I  don't  &ee  that  iny- 
body's  followed  us,  an'  the  shanties  hereabouts  are 
all  dark  and  quiet.  Bedad  it  couldn't  be  more  still 
if  the  people  was  all  dead." 

"Are  you  sure  thire  is  no  skulking  spy  about? 
Look  again !"  said  the  Jesuit. 

Patrick  turned  from  the  vehicle,  and  again  peered 
up  and  down  the  street  , 

"  All  right  again,"  he  continued,  once  more  advan 
cing  to  the  door.  "Not  a  sowl  to  be  seen!" 

At  that  moment  the  numerous  clocks  of  the  city 
pealed  forth  the  passing  hour— the  church-bell  min 
gling  its  sonorous  chime  in  the  general  chorus ;  while 
from  the  adjoining  street  rose  up  the  watchman's  cry 
of  "0,  pa'  'leven  o'  clock." 


160  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

Without  a  word  further,  the  Jesuit  shifted  the  in 
animate  girl  from  his  own  into  my  arms,  and  alighted; 
then  taking  her  again  from  my  hands,  he  directed  me 
to  put  on  his  cloak,  which  he  had  dropped  from  his 
shoulders — ride  off  a  square  or  two — then  alight,  and 
return  on  foot  to  the  front  of  the  church,  and  enter 
the  building  in  that  way. 

I  nodded  acquiescence ;  and  then  the  priest — for  ho 
was  a  strong,  athletic  man — darted  quickly  through 
the  gate  and  disappeared.  Madelon's  weight  did  not 
seem  to  incommode  him  in  the  least. 

His  object  in  directing  me  as  stated,  was,  doubtless, 
that  if  seen,  I  should  be  mistaken  for  himself;  a  very 
natural  error,  you  will  observe,  considering  the  late 
ness  and  darkness  of  the  hour,  and  that  I  was  envelop 
ed  in  his  great  black  cloak.  And  thus,  should  any  one 
observe  me,  thinking  it  was  him — which  he,  doubt 
less,  hoped  for — arriving  on  foot  and  without  any 
burthen,  it  would  go  far  to  exculpate  him  in  the 
event  of  anything  leading  to  discovery. 

Ten  minutes  after  the  Jesuit  had  quitted  the  ve 
hicle — Patrick,  having  performed  all  that  was  re 
quired  of  him  at  that  time,  and  vanished — the  priest 
and  myself  stood  face  to  face  in  his  gloomy  library. 

I  could  not  help  fancying  the  apartment  more  dull 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  161 

and  prison-like  than  usual.  It  was  but  a  fancy,  doubt 
less;  but  conceit,  'tis  said,  is  often  as  bad  as  con 
sumption.  The  light  seemed  to  burn  dimmer;  and, not 
withstanding  the  room  was  agreeably  warm,  no  cheer 
ful  blaze  relieved  its  comfortless  aspect,  for  the  build 
ing  was  heated  throughout  by  a  furnace  in  the  cellar. 

I  gazed  around  expecting  to  see  Madelon — but 
I  was  disappointed. 

"  Where  is  she  ?''  I  inquired,  fixing  my  eyes  upon  the 
priest,  who  stood  before  me,  calm  and  triumphant. 

Without  opening  his  lips  further  than  to  admit 
of  the  play  of  a  slight  smile,  Father  Huestace 
walked  across  the  room  to  the  upper  side-wall,  and 
touching  a  secret  spring — concealed  in  what  I  sup 
posed  to  be  a  solid  wall,  but  what  in  reality  was 
but  a  wood  partition — one  of  the  apparent  panels 
— the  partition  was  so  painted — flew  open,  discover 
ing  a  small,  but  neatly  furnished  apartment  beyond. 

I  was  somewhat  astonished,  though  not  probably 
to  the  extent  that  you  and  many  others  would 
have  been;  for  I  was  well  acquainted  with  all  the 
intricacies  of  Catholic  buildings,  and  knew  that 
most  of  them  contained  some  secret  not  generally 
public. 

The  concealed  door  being  open,  the  priest  turned 


162  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

round  and  beckoned  me  to  follow  him.  I  did  so; 
and  together  we  entered  the  apartment. 

Upon  a  single  bed,  in  one  corner  of  the  room, 
reposed  the  form  of  a  woman — and  that  woman,  as 
you  will  readily  imagine,  was  Madelon  Hawley. 

She  was  still  insensible 

Together  we  walked  to  the  bed-side,  and  together 
gazed  down  upon  the  unconscious  sleeper,  standing  in 
such  a  position  that  the  light  from  the  outer  room 
would  strike  full  upon  her  exquisitely  fair,  but  now 
pale  face.  Her  bonnet,  shawl,  and  other  cumbrous 
articles  had  been  removed;  her  position  was  easy, 
natural,  and  unrestrained  ;  and  her  whole  appear 
ance  irresistibly  innocent  and  lovely 

"  Beautiful,  is  she  not  ?"  demanded  the  priest, 
looking  up  from  the  girl's  face  to  mine.  "  Won- 
derously  beautiful,  or  my  judgment  has  grown  feeble. 
Not  all  Europe,  and  in  my  time  I  have  penetrated 
its  remotest  depths,  could  furnish  a  more  surpass 
ing  picture  of  womanly  loveliness.  And  she  is 
mine — mine  at  last!" 

At  these  last  words  the  priest's  dark  face  rapid 
ly  underwent  a  change ;  and  then  across  his  hard 
features  flashed  the  shadow  of  many  passions, 
which  the  words  had  conjured  up  in  his  corrupted 


The  Jesuit  and  Ms  Victim.  163 

soul.  I  read  them  all,  and  involuntarily  shuddered 
at  the  dark  review.  Triumph,  hate,  lust,  avarice 
— 0,  it  was  a  strange  association — an  inexplicable 
combination. 

"  But  you  have  not  answered  me,  Joseph,"  he 
continued,  after  a  moment.  "Do  you  not  think 
Madelon  beautiful?" 

"  Beautiful,  indeed !"  I  murmured,  with  my  gaze 
again  fixed  upon  the  marble  face  of  the  sleeper. 
u  And  as  pure  in  heart  as  she  is  beautiful  in  per 
son.  Like  her  mother,  in  mind  and  feature,  it  is 
said." 

The  last  words  fell  from  my  lips  unthinkingly, 
and  their  effect  was  instantaneous.  The  priest,  ren 
dered  suspicious  by  his  evil  deeds,  doubtless  fancied 
a  taunt  in  the  thoughtless  expression ;  and  though 
indeed  I  had  begun  to  weary  of  his  complicated 
crime,  I  had  yet  a  powerful  fear  of  incurring  his 
hate  by  any  such  a  course. 

Quick  as  the  lightning's  flash  his  eyes  were 
riveted  upon  my  face,  and  the  expression  of  his 
countenance  was  appalling. 

"  She  does,  indeed,  resemble  her  mother,  Joseph !" 
he  hissed,  and  his  breast  was  surging  with  the 
wildest  emotions.  "  But  why  remind  me  of  it  ?" — 


164  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

why  rouse,  from  their  far  depths  thoughts  and  asso 
ciations,  which  at  this  moment  more  than  any  other 
for  long  years,  madden  me  ?" — why,  with  the  pale 
face  of  that  girl — from  which  her  dead  mother 
seems  to  look — here  before  me,  do  you  conjure  up 
that  bitter  past?  that  past,  which  witnessed  the 
destruction  of  all  my  wild  love,  and  the  humiliation 
of  my  burning  heart  ?  Why  do  you  do  this  ?  Think 
you  that  my  hatred  has  burnt  itself  out,  or  that 
I  waver  in  my  purpose  ?" 

A  terrible  thought  flashed  through  my  mind. 

"  You  will  not  harm  her  ?"  I  demanded,  pointing 
to  Madelon.  "  You  promised  not  to  !" 

"Harm  her  /"  he  exclaimed,  with  intense  passion ; 
and  then  suddenly,  and  with  an  effort,  checking  him 
self,  he  resumed  in  quite  a  different  tone,  strongly 
in  contrast  with  his  former  manner ; — "  no,  no,  no  ; 
not  to  me  must  she  answer ;  but  to  the  Church  must 
her  atonement  be  made — the  Church  whom  she  has 
offended,  and  whose  humble  instrument  I  am." 

As  sudden  as  was  the  change  in  the  priest's  words, 
so  sudden,  to  outward  appearances  at  least,  was  the 
expression  of  his  feelings.  His  towering  passion — 
his  intense  excitement,  were  gone,  and  a  calm  and 
quiet  demeanor  had  usurped  their  place.  I  looked 


The  Jesuit  and  ln-s  Victim.  165 

and  wondered,  but  nevertheless  doubted  ;  and  I  have 
often  thought  since,  politic  as  he  was,  that  he  changed 
his  manner  merely  to  allay  my  fears,  and  not  that  he 
believed  what  he  uttered. 

"  That  Church,  to  whom  all  who  offend,  must  an 
swer" — he  continued ;  "  that  Church  whose  arm  can 
reach  the  uttermost  corners  of  the  earth,  and  whose 
eye  can  read  the  human  heart — that  Church  who 
knows  no  distinction  between  the  priest  and  the  lay 
man,  when  her  sovereign  will  is  questioned,  or  her 
mandates  disobeyed — that  Church  who  has  the  power 
to  compel  submission,  and  whose  superiors,  the  world 
over,  are  directed  to  send  refractory  brethren  to  Ponti 
fical  Rome,  there  to  learn  what  most  becomes  them — 
unquestioned  and  implicit  obedience." 

To  one  standing  in  the  inferior  position  in  which 
I  did,  there  was  a  terrible  meaning  in  the  Jesuit's 
calm  and  unimpassioned  words,  as  he  well  knew,  and 
therefore  uttered  the  hidden  threat.  I  felt  anxious, 
at  that  moment,  to  conciliate  him,  and  consequently — 
not  from  love,  but  from  fear — endeavored  to  correct 
the  impulsive  speech  which  had  so  aroused  his  terri 
ble  passions.  At  length  he  appeared  really  satisfied. 

"  Enough,  enough,  my  good  Joseph !"  he  exclaimed, 
at  length  interrupting  me  in  what  I  am  now  con- 


166  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

vinced  was  a  very  awkward  attempt  at  explanation. 
"  You,  doubtless,  meant  no  harm,  and  I  was  excited 
and  hasty.  There  are  moments  in  the  life  of  every 
human  being,  when  they  will  be  betrayed  into  some 
hasty  word  or  act — and  we  are  but  human  at  last. 
Let  it  pass.  But  come," — he  continued,  quietly  draw 
ing  the  counterpane  over  Madelon,  and  turning  to 
wards  the  door — "let  us  leave  this.  Other  thoughts 
now  demand  our  attention." 

We  then  re-entered  the  library,  the  priest  lingering 
last,  and  closing  the  panel  behind  him  as  he  passed 
through. 

By  this  time  I  was  thoroughly  mystified  with  the 
priest's  conduct.  I  could  not  decide  what  was  really 
the  motive  that  led  him  on.  That  his  service  to  the 
Church,  of  which  he  so  much  vaunted,  was  but  a 
cloak,  I  was  almost  certain ;  but  whether  he  coveted 
the  girl  or  her  money  most ;  or  whether  an  abiding 
hatred  for  the  mother,  who  had  scorned  him,  induced 
him  thus  to  persecute  her  image,  I  was  at  a  loss,  up 
to  that  time,  at  least,  to  decide.  I  could  not  analyze 
his  conduct,  it  was  such  a  strange  mixture  of  base 
ness,  hypocrisy  and  deceit.  He  talked  fairly — some 
times  beautifully — always  eloquently  ;  and  so  con 
cealed  much  of  the  corruption,  that  was  festering 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.          167 

beneath.  What  his  tongue  uttered,  was  plain;  but 
what  his  heart  felt,  was  as  deeply  hidden  as  the  mys 
tery  of  the  grave. 

Once  or  twice  about  this  period — and  some  such, 
thought  entered  my  mind  while  standing  there  over 
Madelon — I  had  really  contemplated  the  chance  of 
shaking  off  the  service  of  the  Jesuit ;  but  the  spectre 
Fear,  grim  and  gaunt,  quickly  crushed  out  the  vivid 
thought.  He  was  old  and  powerful  in  the  good-will 
of  our  superiors,  while  I  was  weak,  insignificant,  and 
uninfluential.  To  whom  under  such  circumstances 
could  I  turn  ?  To  the  Church  ?  She  would  laugh  at, 
and  disbelieve  me.  To  the  world  at  large  ?  Little 
credit  or  sympathy  would  I  get  there ;  while  in  either 
case,  I  should  risk  a  sudden  death,  or  a  life-long  im 
prisonment  in  the  dark  cells  of  the  Inquisition. 

You  wonder !  If  not  in  this  land,  in  Catholic  Eu 
rope,  at  least,  that  dark  blot  upon  humanity  still  flour 
ished — flourished,  too,  in  all  its  pristine  and  terrible 
horror,  notwithstanding  Pius  the  Sixth  once  assured 
Napoleon,  that  it  was  no  longer  what  it  had  been — 
no  longer  a  tribunal  of  religious  opinion.  What 
more  easy  matter,  than  to  send  me  to  Rome,  as  oth 
ers,  under  somewhat  similar  circumstances,  had  been 
sent  before  ?  Besides,  in  exposing  Father  Huestace,  I 


168  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

but  denounced  myself,  and  brought  down  the  ven 
geance  of  the  outraged  laws  upon  my  own  head. 
What  could  I  do  but  go  on  ? 

But  to  proceed. 

We  had  re-entered  the  library,  you  remember ;  and 
although  but  a  few  moments  had  elapsed  since  the 
priest  and  myself  had  jangled,  he  seemed  to  have  for 
gotten — for  I  did  not  believe  that  he  really  had — 
the  occurrence  entirely. 

Seating  himself  in  his  huge  arm-chair,  and  briefly 
bidding  me  follow  his  example,  he  proceeded  to  ad 
dress  me  as  follows ;  and  his  tone  and  manner  was  as 
quiet  and  subdued,  as  if  he  had  never  done  a  wrong 
to  any  human  being — as  if  every  act  of  his  life  had 
been  above  reproach  or  condemnation. 

"Joseph,"  said  he,  as  soon  as  we  were  seated — 
"  there,  doubtless,  will  be  much  excitement  in  relation 
to  this  outrage — as  to-morrow's  papers  will  herald  it ; 
particularly,  as  the  lady  and  her  friends  are  among 
the  wealthiest  and  proudest  in  the  city.  Were  she 
but  a  poor  wench,  with  a  few  friends  and  no  influence, 
it  miglit  be  otherwise,  even  in  this  democratic  repub 
lic.  In  the  present  case,  however,  all  that  money 
and  position  can  accomplish,  will  be  brought  into  re 
quisition.  Nor  will  the  matter  be  bettered,  should 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  169 

anything  lead  the  people — the  rabble  are  always  ex 
citable  and  easily  influenced — to  conjecture  that  we 
had  a  hand  in  it.  Let  them  but  once  think  so,  and 
I  doubt,  if  there  is  a  building  in  the  city,  or  a  law  in 
the  land,  that  would  save  us  from  their  wrath.  Un 
der  such  circumstances,  we  must  be  more  cautious ; 
more  bold ;  more  firm.  And  to  encourage  and  assure 
us,  we  have  the  conviction,  that  our  plans  have  been 
so  well  arranged,  and  so  skilfully  executed,  t  that 
they  would  defy  the  inquisitor-general  himself  to 
penetrate  them.  Should  they  suspect — which  they 
possibly  may,  for  they  have  good  reason — they  cannot 
accuse,  not  having  any  direct  proof.  You  will  not, 
and  Patrick  dare  not,  betray  me,  and  through  me  the 
Church,  and  through  the  Church  your  souls.  For 
Madelon — there" — he  pointed  towards  the  panel — 
"she  is  as  securely  hidden  as  though  she  were  in  her 
grave.  Save  ourselves,  no  one  in  this  city  is  aware 
of  the  existence  of  that  room,  and  were  they,  without 
the  secret  of  the  spring,  which  is  intricate,  they  could 
not  effect  an  entrance.  And  that  the  girl  herself 
may  not  have  the  least  chance  of  involving  us,  I  will 
keep  her  senses  so  steeped  in  oblivion — at  all  times, 
except  when  it  is  absolutely  necessary  that  she 

should  take  food,  and  then  I  myself  will  be  present 
8 


170  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

to  guard  against  accidents — that  she  will  neither  "be 
able,  short  of  a  miracle,  to  move  or  speak.  I  can  do 
it,  Joseph,  and  yet  not  kill  her.  If  we  were  not  seen 
when  we  entered  here — and  it  is  hardly  possible 
that  we  were — all  is  safe.  In  that  respect  we  did  our 
best — we  could,  indeed,  do  no  more.  And  now,  Joseph, 
home  ;  but  bear  in  mind,  that  in  this  hour  more  than 
ever,  there  is  need  of  a  close  mouth,  a  quick  eye,  and 
a  firm  heart.  Good  night ;  and  may  the  Holy  Virgin 
guard  your  slumbers." 

A  few  moments  after  I  quitted  the  room,  and 
emerged  into  the  street ;  and  despite  the  stormy  con 
dition  of  the  weather,  and  the  dreariness  of  everything 
around,  I  experienced  a  relief,  which  not  even  the 
cold,  keen,  blast,  could  damp. 

A  little  later,  and  sleep  had  bound  my  weary  eyes ; 
but  in  consequence  of  the  disordered  condition  of  my 
mind,  my  slumber  was  much  broken  by  frightful  vi 
sions  ;  and  in  the  morning  I  arose  at  a  much  later 
hour  than  usual,  languid  and  unrefreshed. 

For  a  half  hour  previous  to  arising  I  lay  awake, 
thinking ;  not  so  much,  however,  about  Madelon,  as 
of  what  concerned  myself.  The  girl  under  the  pro 
tection  of  the  Church,  my  duty  of  spy,  at  least,  was 
ta  an  end.  Under  those  circumstances  I  did  not 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim. 


think  it  necessary,  or  even  advisable,  to  remain  longer 
in  the  position  I  occupied.  It  was  not  likely,  I  ar 
gued,  that  I  should  remain  much  longer  in  the  city, 
and  for  the  time  that  would  intervene  prior  to  my 
departure,  I  could  find  lodgings  at  some  Inn.  Hav 
ing  arrived  at  that  conclusion,  I  arose  and  sought  the 
master  of  the  house. 

Mr.  Ellis  was  kind,  but  strict  ;  and  I  easily  saw, 
upon  entering  his  presence,  that  he  was  not  over 
pleased  at  my  laziness,  as  he  bluntly  termed  it.  I 
heard  him  through,  and  then  excused  myself  on  the 
plea  of  indisposition,  announcing  to  him  in  the 
same  connection,  my  intention  of  leaving  his  em 
ployment,  and  shortly,  the  city.  He  then  compliment 
ed  me  upon  my  general  good  conduct,  and  attention  to 
his  business,  during  the  short  time  I  had  been  with 
him—  expressed  a  regret  at  my  leaving,  and  a  cordial 
wish  for  my  future  prosperity.  I  thanked  him  kindly, 
and  then  took  my  leave  ;  carefully  avoiding  even 
the  chance  of  encountering  Winnie,  or  any  one  else  ; 
though  I  felt  well  assured,  that  in  no  quar!  er  was  sus 
picion  attached  to  me.  I  had  always  been  too 
guarded. 

During  the  afternoon  and  evening  of  that  same 
day,  I  called  twice  at  the  priest's  residence,  but  on 


172  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

each  occasion  he  was  absent  on  particular  business,  as 
the  old  housekeeper  informed  me.  That  was  all  I 
could  learn,  and  so  was  obliged  to  be  content. 

As  the  priest  had  predicted,  the  excitement  in  con 
sequence  of  the  abduction,  was  of  a  most  alarming 
character.  The  full  particulars  of  the  affair,  in  some 
respects  highly  exaggerated,  had  been  published  that 
morning  in  all  the  daily  papers,  and  the  story  had 
spread  like  wildfire.  The  papers,  after  detailing  the 
principal  features,  went  on  to  state,  that  the  impo 
sition  had  been  discovered  by  the  arrival  of  the  real 
Charles  Hawley,  but  a  short  time  subsequent  to  the 
departure  of  the  fictitious  one.  Immediate  search 
was  instituted,  and  the  whole  city  scoured  as  soon  as 
possible,  but  without  discovering  any  trace  of  the 
young  lady  or  her  captors.  All,  in  the  concluding 
words  of  one  of  the  most  influential  journals  of  the 
day,  was  shrouded  in  impenetrable  mystery;  but  the 
whole  affair  was  instantly  to  undergo  a  thorough  and 
strict  investigation,  that  the  outraged  laws  might  be 
appeased,  and  the  happiness  of  a  numerous  and  in 
fluential  family  once  more  restored. 

And  thus  was  chronicled  another  of  those  crimes, 
which  long  since  rendered  the  Romish  Church  noto 
rious — which  centuries  ago,  made  black  and  fearful 


The   Jesuit  and  Ms  Victim.          IT 3 

both  the  public  and  private  history  of  her  priest 
hood.  Read  there — if  your  eyes  do  not  pale — the 
terrible  catalogue  of  crimes  which  have  been,  year 
by  year,  heaping  up  against  the  mother  at  whose 
fount  these  children  of  sin  and  corruption  have  been 
nurtured. 

Yes,  go  read  the  history  of  her  private,  individual 
murders,  and  her  public  and  general  massacres !  Go, 
count  if  you  can,  the  old  men  and  the  matrons,  the 
young  men  and  the  maidens,  and  the  children,  who 
have  suffered  by  her  hypocrisy,  endured  her  tortures, 
and  died  at  her  reeking  hands.  Penetrate  into  the 
cells  of  her  Inquisition — examine  all  her  fiendish  in 
struments  of  torture — behold  her  heartless  and  des 
potic  judges,  and  hearken  to  her  justice !  Justice ! 
Romish  justice !  God  forgive  me,  what  a  mockery ! 

0,  could  the  dead  in  Time's  great  graveyard,  burst 
their  bonds  of  clay  and  stand  up  before  us  now,  what 
a  huge  mountain  of  evidence  would  overwhelm  this 
Dragon  of  the  earth.  0,  but  there  would  be  shrieks 
and  groans,  terrible  and  fearful,  ascending  up,  and  up, 
filling  the  vast  earth  below,  and  the  great  heavens 
above.  0,  but  there  would  be  curses  dee*p,  and  bit 
ter,  heaped  upon  her  guilty  head.  There  would  be 
told  tales  of  murder —  of  robbery — of  adultery ;  of 


174  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

mercy  denied,  and  prayers  unheeded,  could  the  un 
numbered  dead  of  ages  gone,  thus  stand  around  us, 
and  communicate  the  secrets  of  their  lives.  It  would 
be  a  jubilee  of  terrible  sounds. 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

THE  following  was  the  Sabbath  day;  and  as  the 
church  bells  pealed  forth  their  matin  call,  I  repaired 
to  the  priest's  house ;  partly  from  custom — partly  from 
an  irrepressible  desire  to  be  near  the  spot  where  Ma- 
delon  was  hidden,  and  partly  from  a  wish  to  learn 
what  Father  Huestace  was  thinking  and  doing. 

The  priest  greeted  my  appearance  as  if  nothing 
unusual  had  occurred ;  and,  after  a  few  unimportant 
remarks,  expressed  a  desire,  that  I  should  be  ready  to 
confer  with  him  that  evening  after  service,  as  until 
that  time  the  duties  of  the  church  claimed  his  un 
divided  attention.  At  that  hint  I  departed — he  never 
permitted  any  person  whatever  to  remain  in  his  li 
brary,  when  he  himself  was  not  present — glad  to  get 
away,  for  a  time  at  least,  from  the  narrow  limits  of  a 
place  that  conjured  up  such  painful  thoughts. 

As  the  last  echo  of  the  pealing  bell  mingled  with 


176  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

the  loud  swell  of  the  great  organ,  I  passed  from  the 
priest's  library  round  to  the  front  of  the  church,  and 
mingling  with  the  worshippers,  entered  the  building 
The  audience  were  mostly  arranged  in  their  seats; 
and  as  I  gazed  down  from  the  gallery,  where  I  had 
stationed  myself,  upon  the  hundreds  of  upturned 
faces,  I  fancied  that  I  could  trace  in  each  gaping 
countenance  only  ignorance,  grossness,  superstition, 
and  bigotry. 

Away  over  in  one  corner  sat  Patrick,  the  hackman ; 
and  there  was  not  a  more  devout  worshipper  in  the 
building;  and  yet  there  was  blood  upon  his  hands, 
and  murder  on  his  soul.  And  as  still  I  gazed  around 
upon  the  throng  of  bigoted  slaves,  I  wondered  in  my 
own  mind  how  many  others  in  that  vast  assembly 
were  marked  with  the  same  brand — how  much  crime, 
and  shame,  and  hypocrisy,  was  crowded  beneath  that 
lofty  dome. 

Romanism  was  not  then  —is  not  now — and  never 
will  be.  more  of  a  credit,  or  a  profit,  or  a  blessing,  to 
this  country  than  it  has  ever  been  to  any  other ;  and 
wherever  it  has  secured  power,  which  it  is  contin 
ually  aiming  at,  ignorance,  superstition,  bigotry,  and 
crime,  have  run  wild. 

Of  such  things  has  been  its  past — of  such  are  its 


Tlie  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  17Y 

present — of  such  will  be  its  future.  Better  there 
were  no  future  for  it,  in  this  country .  then  might  Ame 
rica  become  entirely  free — entirely  republican;  but 
while  that  incubus  rests  upon  her  great  heart,  and 
with  its  rank  poison  impermeates  every  artery  of  her 
system,  that  result  can  never  be  achieved — for  Catho 
licism  is  inimical  to  republicanism.  The  subject  of 
the  Pope,  which  every  true  Catholic  is,  beyond  the 
shadow  of  a  doubt,  cannot  become  the  honest  and 
loyal  subject  of  a  Protestant  republic;  for  in  all 
things  his  allegiance  to  the  Church  is  paramount,  and 
most  binding. 

Turn  to  the  pages  of  ancient  and  modern  history, 
and  your  heart  will  quake  with  the  long  record  of  her 
exclusiveness — her  tyranny — her  extortion — her  pro 
scription.  Proscription!  cries  some  zealous  bigot,  su- 
perstitiously  blind.  YesJ  Has  not  the  Roman  Ca 
tholic  Church  forever  and  ever  looked  upon  all  out 
side  her  slavish  influence  as  damnable  heretics? 
looked  upon  them  as  the  ferocious  wolf  does  upon 
the  lamb— as  legitimate  prey?  Has  she  not  con 
tinually,  at  all  times,  and  in  all  places,  hunted  them 
in  the  most  fierce,  and  frequently,  fatal  manner  ?  And 
has  she  not  always,  and  does  she  not  still,  grasp  at 
universal  dominion  ?  And  to  accomplish  that  end. 


178  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

think  you  she  would  pause  at  any  crime — any  horror  ? 
No !  no !  If  she  would,  all  her  antecedents  lie. 

Her  principles — if  her  crime,  her  shame,  her  super 
stition,  her  imposture,  can  be  called  principles — are 
still  the  same,  although  the  progress  of  education  and 
enlightenment  have  somewhat  modified  her  deeds,  at 
least  in  this  country.  Her  bigotry — her  assumption 
— her  arrogance — her  proscription— her  accursed  ex- 
clusiveness,  are  still  the  same,  though  externally  adapt 
ed  to  the  circumstances  which  surround  her. 

Why,  the  Catholic  religion — the  creed  of  the  Pope, 
and  the  Church  of  Rome — the  faith  beneath  whose 
banner  thousands  upon  thousands  of  human  beings 
have  been  butchered  in  cold  blood,  is  fast  becoming 
one  of  the  most  prominent  things  in  this  republic; 
and  even  here,  as  in  the  God-deserted  countries 
where  it  is  religion,  law,  and  everything  else,  its  min 
isters  would,  if  they  but  dare,  and  will,  if  they  ever 
can,  put  you  to  the  torture  for  expressing  an  opinion 
contrary  to  the  heathenish  creed  which  they  inculcate. 
These  are  facts  which  cannot  be  contradicted. 

Those  who  have  studied  much,  and  read  much,  and 
observed  much,  have  prophesied  a  great  battle  in  the 
future — a  battle  between  two  huge  armies,  which  shall 
fight  beneath  the  red  banner  of  Catholicism,  and  the 


The  Jesuit  and  Ms  Victim.          179 

white  flag  of  Protestantism ;  a  battle — not  with  the 
tongue,  not  with  the  pen,  not  with  the  ballot,  but  with 
the  rattling  musket  and  flashing  sword. 

Do  not  passing  events  seem  to  indicate  some  such 
result?  Has  not  riot,  and  civil  war,  and  blood,  and 
fire,  already  sprung  up  in  the  path  of  this  insa 
tiate  beast  ?  Will  not  such  a  course,  appalling  as 
it  may  seem,  some  day  become  a  necessity,  and  be 
the  only  alternative  left  to  check  the  swift  progress 
of  this  destroying  Juggernaut — to  diminish  the  ra 
pid  strides  with  which  it  now  encircles  the  land  ? 
'  The  heart  of  Rome  is  large  enough  to  take  in  the 
whole  world,'  and  she  will  not  lose  any  opportunity 
to  fill  up  the  vacuum.  Upon  America  her  eager 
eye  has  long  been  fixed,  and  some  day  you  must 
either  accept  her  slavery,  directly  or  indirectly,  or 
unite  to  crush  her  power.  Can  any  one  doubt  it? 

But  again  I  wander,  and  weary  myself  and  you, 
with  prosy  speculations  and  unavailing  denun 
ciations — again  my  present  feelings  have  led  me 
away  from  the  thread  of  my  narrative.  To  return 
once  again ! 

From  the  audience  I  turned  my  eyes  to  Father 
Huestace.  A  prayer  was  trembling  on  his  lips.  As 
I  gazed  upon  his  unruffled  brow,  and  listened  to 


180  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

*__,.._,,_ 

his  calm,  and  at  that  moment,  not  unmusical  voice, 
I  wondered,  too,  how  he  could  be  so  strong,  and 
firm,  while  yet  that  pale  girl,  so  still  and  motion 
less,  was  wasting  her  strength  away  in  that  little 
room,  within  a  few  yards  of  where  he  knelt. 

Filled  with  such  thoughts  and  feelings,  all  things 
about  me  grew  irksome,  and  at  length  I  quietly 
arose  from  my  seat  and  left  the  building.  Free  air 
changed  the  current  of  my  thoughts,  and  not  wish 
ing  to  leave  the  neighborhood,  I  strolled  into  an  Inn, 
a  few  doors  distant,  and  taking  up  a  paper,  seated 
myself.  I  could  not  read,  however,  for  many  per 
sons  were  present,  and  all  were  busy  with  surmises 
as  to  the  cause,  and  speculations  as  to  the  probable 
issue,  of  the  recent  abduction.  I  made  believe  to 
peruse  the  paper  that  was  before  me,  but  my  whole 
mind  was  intent  upon  what  was  being  said  around 
me.  Loud  and  bitter  were  the  curses  heaped  upon 
the  perpetrators,  whoever  they  were — unsparing  the 
denunciations  which  passed  rapidly  from  mouth  to 
mouth.  Many,  too,  were  the  suggestions  which 
were  made  as  to  the  character  of  those,  who  were, 
doubtless,  engaged  in  the  outrage  ;  and  the  most 
favored  supposition  seemed  to  be,  that  it  was  the 
work  of  the  Roman  Catholics. 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  181 

Little  did  they  dream  how  near  the  truth  they 
were  in  that  conclusion — little  did  they  imagine 
what  an  intimate  connection  I  had  with  the  sub 
ject  of  their  conversation.  Had  they  been  conscious 
of  the  latter,  they  doubtless  would  have  lynched 
me  upon  the  spot ;  for  they  all  appeared  to  be 
Americans  and  Protestants.  I  trembled  at  the 
thought,  and  finally  glided,  unperceived,  from  the 
room. 

Morning,  and  afternoon,  and  evening  service  were 
all  over,  and  still  I  lingered  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
church.  The  place  had  a  peculiar  sort  of  fascination 
for  me.  I  could  not  leave  it,  even  when  I  want 
ed  to  ;  and  there  was  not  the  least  occasion  for  my 
remaining  in  the  neighborhood  the  whole  day. 

Darkness  at  length  came — the  early  evening  ser 
vice  was  over,  and  I  glided  along  the  avenue,  and 
into  the  priest's  house.  He  was  awaiting  me. 

"  Good  evening,  Joseph,"  he  said.  "  Take  a  seat. 
I  have  been  looking  for  you  for  some  time ;  though 
I  suppose  it  is  my  own  impatience  that  has  made 
the  period  tedious.  I  am,  doubtless,  a  little  eager 
in  this  matter  of  Madelon,  for  one  is  not  like 
ly  to  learn  patience  in  sixteen  years  of  disap 
pointment.  But  never  mind  that,  Joseph,  for  we 


182  Madelon  Ilawley,  or 

have  yet  much  to  do — we  are  not  yet  out  of  the 
woods.  We  must  advance  with  our  work,  and  speedily ; 
for  the  girl's  disappearance  has  become  notoriously 
public,  and  the  excitement,  instead  of  abating,  but 
increases.  One  of  yesterday's  papers — the  editor  of 
which  appears  to  be  somewhat  conversant  with  Made- 
Ion's  history — contained  a  statement  of  the  perse 
cutions  to  which,  it  is  rumored,  she  has  been  sub 
jected  ;  and  suggests  that  the  present  outrage  may 
have  been  committed  by  her  old  enemies,  the  Pa 
pists.  That  is  enough  for  the  heretic  Yankees.  A 
mite  of  proof  would  now  work  our  destruction  in 
earnest — would  set  a  conflagration  we  could  not 
easily  quench." 

"  It  is  all  so,  your  reverence,"  I  answered  calm 
ly  ;  not  at  all  surprised  at  what  he  said. 

"  You  take  it  cool  now,  Joseph!"  said  Father 
Huestace,  looking  up  into  my  face,  astonished,  and 
emphasizing  his  words  strongly. 

"  And  why  not,  your  reverence," — I  rejoined, — "  since 
I  am  so  familiar  with  to  what  you  tell  me  ?  My  first 
alarm,  too,  is  over." 

Right— right,   my    good    Joseph!"     said    Father 
Huestace,  recollecting  himself.     "  But  you,  doubtless, 


The  Jesuit  and  Ms  Victim.  183 

have  heard  much  more  than  I  have  myself.  What 
say  you  ?  Is  not  the  public  agitated  ?" 

"  Yes,"  I  continued  ;  "  for  although  such  a  little 
time  has  elapsed,  the  story  is  in  everybody's  mouth. 
I  have  been  in  and  out  among  the  people  since 
yesterday,  and  have  heard  all  their  surmises  and 
suspicions.  They  point,  all,  to  the  Church." 

"  Our  path  darkens,  Joseph !"  cried  the  priest, 
with  a  slight  show  of  nervous  superstition.  "  I 
can  see  the  black  shadow  as  it  creeps  down  before 
me.  Madelon  must  be  got  away,  and  immediately. 
I  will  not  even  risk  the  possibility  of  being  dis 
covered  and  defeated.  Madelon  must  be  got  away !" 

"But  how?"  I  inquired.  «I  should  think  that 
during  the  present  excitement  any  attempt  to  re 
move  the  girl  would  be  dangerous." 

"Nevertheless,  Joseph,  she  must  be  got  away," 
— continued  the  Jesuit,  determinedly.  "  The  neces 
sity  is  apparent  and  unanswerable.  How  it  is  to 
be  accomplished  I  have  not  yet  thought — I  only 
know  that  it  must  be  done  ;  and  if  I  devise  not 
a  scheme,  it  is  the  first  time  my  brain  has  ever 
failed  me.  But  there  is  yet  another  must  be 
looked  after.  The  lover,  my  good  Joseph,  the  lover ! 
'Twould  be  dangerous  to  leave  the  city  with  him 


184  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

in  it,  for  the  ingenuity  of  love  can  scarcely  be 
equalled.  "With  the  information  which  he  already, 
doubtless,  possesses,  as  a  guide,  he  would  soon  fer 
ret  something  out ;  soon  prove  himself  a  strong 
and  dangerous  enemy— more  so  than  all  the  rest 
combined.  Unquestionably,  Madelon  has  favored 
him  with  a  minute  history  of  every  circumstance. 
'  Twould  be  folly  to  think  otherwise.  Something, 
therefore,  must  be  done  to  keep  him  quiet — that 
is  certain.  But  what  is  really  best,  puzzles  me  con 
siderably.  I  am  yet  at  a  loss.  Besides  we  are  ter 
ribly  environed  by  the  girl's  friends  and  relations. 
I  can  see  it,  though  I  hate  to  acknowledge  the  fact." 

« "Why  not  then,  your  reverence,"  I  demanded — 
"  renounce  all  thought  of  young  Sinclair  ?  Others 
are  almost,  if  not  quite,  as  active  and  dangerous. 
Besides  one  scheme  may  interfere  with  the  other, 
and  in  the  end  defeat  what  is  already  accomplished." 

"  I  admit  the  truth  of  all  you  say,  Joseph,"  re 
sponded  the  Jesuit.  "  Your  arguments  are  not  new 
to  me,  and  sometimes  I  have  been  tempted  to  fore 
go  every  consideration  but  the  one  grand  object 
of  securing  Madelon." 

The  Jesuit  was  again  playing  with  my  credulity 
— again  deceiving  me  into  the  belief  that  his  hate 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.          185 

for  Frank  Sinclair  was  not  hate,  but  simply  a  desire, 
natural  enough,  to  guard  against  the  chance  of  dis 
covery.  At  the  same  time  a  fearful  scheme  was 
working  in  his  brain,  as  you  shall  see ;  but  not 
considering,  I  suppose,  either  my  consent  or  assis 
tance  necessary,  he  was  taking  this  method  of  keep 
ing  me  in  the  dark.  With  him  life  was  one  con 
tinuous  plot— a  tissue  of  deceit  and  treachery. 

"  I  agree  with  you  entirely,  Joseph,"  he  continued, 
coming  round  suddenly  to  my  views.  u  Our  scheme 
scarcely  requires  these  measures ;  and  yet  I  had  a 
small  account  to  settle  with  this  same  Frank  Sin 
clair  ;"  and  almost  unconsciously,  as  I  could  see, 
the  Jesuit  set  his  teeth.  "  But  we  must  learn  to 
forego  our  own  pleasure,  when  the  prosperity  of 
the  Church  demands  a  sacrifice,  as  it  does  in  this 
case.  But  I  will  think  it  over  again.  I  have 
thought  all  along  that  it  were  best  to  adopt  some 
measures  in  relation  to  the  lover,  and  so  have  ex 
pressed  myself  to  you.  I  am  partly  inclined  to 
think  so  still.  However,  I  will  give  the  matter  a 
deep  and  final  consideration.  Should  circum 
stances  demand  the  removal  of  young  Sinclair,  I 
shall  not  hesitate  in  the  course  marked  out  for 
me ;  should  it  be  otherwise,  I  shall  be  equally  as 


186  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

prompt  in  following  an  opposite  direction.  I  do 
not — from  various  causes — like  the  young  man  ; 
but  never  shall  the  gratification  of  my  feelings 
clash  with  the  well-being  of  my  religion,  or  prove 
a  stumbling-block  in  the  triumphant  progress  of 
the  Church." 

All  this  rodomontade  amounted  to  so  many  words 
and  no  more ;  for  at  that  very  moment  the  Jesuit  was 
contemplating  a  deed  of  mere  wanton  revenge,  which 
eminently  endangered  himself,  myself,  the  Church, 
and  all. 

"  However,  as  I  have  said,"  he  still  continued — "  I 
will  think  the  matter  over  calmly  and  dispassion 
ately.  Until  we  meet  again,  let  it  now  rest.  To 
morrow  morning  call  at  Patrick's  stand,  and  bid  him 
wait  upon  me  as  soon  after  as  possible.  In  the  even 
ing,  early,  come  here  yourself.  By  that  time  I  shall 
have  completed  the  preliminary  arrangements  for  the 
removal  of  Madelon,  and  shall  be  enabled  to  commu 
nicate  further  upon  the  subject.  In  the  mean  time 
watch  around,  and  should  you  learn  anything  really 
essential,  let  me  know  it  instantly." 

"  I  shall  do  so,  your  reverence,"  I  responded,  as  I 
arose  to  my  feet,  and  took  up  my  hat.  "Before  I 
leave,  however,  I  should  like  to  inquire  after  the  con- 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  187 

dition  of  Miss  Hawley.  Does  she  realize  her  posi 
tion?" 

"  She  does  not,  I  take  it,"  replied  Father  Huestace. 
"  Since  she  has  been  here,  she  has  continued  in  a  sort 
of  stupor ;  the-  effect  of  the  drugs  which  I  have  ad 
ministered  to  her.  In  this  condition  she  has  only  a 
kind  of  dream-life.  Once,  indeed,  when  I  was  giving 
her  some  food,  she  murmured;  'Frank,  save  me! 
save  me  !'  That  is  the  only  evidence  of  real  life  she 
has  so  far  displayed.  But  I  am  in  hopes,  shortly,  to 
be  able  to  release  her  mind  from  this  torpid  state." 

"  I  hope  so,  too,"  I  responded.  "  Her  present  con 
dition  is  but  a  slow  torture.  And  now,  your  reve 
rence,  if  you  have  nothing  further  to  offer,  I  will 
take  my  leave." 

"  Nothing  further  to  night,  Joseph,"  said  the  Je 
suit.  "  Remember  my  directions,  and  be  prompt.  It 
is  in  that  manner,  we  all  prove  ourselves." 

Then  we  parted,  and  each  was  alone  with  his  own 
busy  reflections. 


188  Madelon  Hawley,  or 


CHAPTER     X. 

THE  following  morning  I  called  upon  the  hackman, 
Patrick,  and  executed  the  priest's  errand.  What 
transpired  at  the  interview  between  those  two,  I  had 
but  little  suspicion  of,  and  only  learned  from  succeed 
ing  circumstances. 

At  the  designated  hour  in  the  evening  I  was  again 
seated  in  the  Jesuit's  little  den.  After  answering 
some  questions  which  he  proposed  in  relation  to  the 
feeling  that  still  existed  in  the  community,  a  pause 
ensued,  which  he  broke  in  his  usually  abrupt  man 
ner. 

"I  have  had  a  visitor,  to-day,  Joseph,"  said  he. 
"  Whom  do  you  suppose  ?  But  why  ask  ?  you  could 
never  imagine.  Why,  no  less  an  individual,  than  Mr. 
Frank  Sinclair,  the  ardent,  passionate,  devoted  lover 
of  Madelon — the  youth  who  has  not  enough  enemies 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim  189 

of  his  own,  but  must  glory  in  the  acquisition  of  an 
other's.  Maledictions  on  the  meddling  heretic  !" 

"  Did  he  come  here — here,  your  reverence  ?"  I  ex 
claimed,  startled  by  the  announcement.  "  Then,  in 
deed,  is  danger  near!" 

"Yes,"  continued  Father  Huestace,  quickly  work 
ing  himself  into  a  passion ;  "  yes,  he  came  here — here 
in  this  very  house — came  upon  me  almost  unhe 
ralded,  and  abruptly  demanded  to  know  what  I  had 
done  with  his  Madelon — where  I  had  secreted  the 
treasure  I  had  stolen.  I  told  him,  that  he  was  mis 
taken — that  he  wronged  me — foully  wronged  me  by 
his  suspicions.  He  said,  that  it  was  false — false  as 
my  own  black  heart,  for  his  Madelon  had  told  him  of 
me — told  him,  how  that  I  would  have  wronged  her 
mother — how  that  I  would  have  killed  her — how  that 
I  had  ever  sought  to  rob  and  wrong  her,  and  was  al 
ways  her  bitterest  and  most  unrelenting  foe." 

Thus  talked  the  heretic  fool ;  and  still  I  told  him, 
that  he  was  wrong — and  still  he  would  not  believe 
me,  but  threatened  me  over  and  over  again  with 
quick  exposure,  unless  I  discovered  to  him,  where  his 
Madelon  was  concealed — or  pointed  to  her  grave. 
Thus  he  raved  and  raved,  and  all  the  while  his  Made- 
Ion,  whom  he  so  bewailed,  lay  there" — with  a  look  of 


190  Madelon  Hawley,  or  { 

bitter  hatred  the  priest  pointed  to  the  panel — "  there, 
I  say,  within  a  few  feet  of  the  spot  upon  which  he 
was  standing.  That  was  my  triumph,  Joseph,  and 
the  proud  heretic's  despair  pleased  me.  Maledictions 
on  him !  Raving  at  me  for  a  priestly  villain,  he  left, 
roundly  asseverating,  that  he  would  have  the  whole 
building  searched  before  the  world  was  a  day  older. 
Then,  my  good  Joseph,  I  sat  down  and  laughed  hearti 
ly  at  the  heretic's  great  agony.  The  fool !  The  fool ! 
he  has  fixed  his  fate." ' 

"But,  were  you  not  frightened?"  I  inquired,  alarm 
ed  myself,  at  our  apparently  imminent  position. 

"Wherefore?"  quoth  the  priest,  scornfully. 

"The  lover  is  maddened,  and  may — doubtless  will 
— keep  his  threat,"  I  responded. 

"And  if  he  does,  what  then?"  replied  the  Jesuit, 
defiantly.  "Let  him  fetch  a  whole  pack  of  the  law's 
myrmidons — let  them  search  the  building  from  top 
to  bottom,  and  the  chances  are  ten  to  one,  that  they 
leave  no  wiser  than  they  came.  That  room  is  too  safe. 
And  unless  their  movements  are  very  rapid,  they  will 
not  find  Madelon,  even  should  they  discover  that 
apartment.  One  day  more,  and  we  may  defy  them." 

At  that  moment  there  was  a  low  knocking  at  the 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  191 

library-door.  I  trembled  like  a  thief  caught  in  a 
felony. 

"Hush!"  said  the  priest,  and  he  drew  close  to  the 
door. 

"Who  knocks?  he  inquired  in  low  tones. 

"Me,  Holy  Father,"  answered  the  old  housekeeper, 
in  her  thin  and  querulous  tones.  "Only  me." 

"Well!"  said  the  Jesuit,  sharply. 

"A  man,  named  Patrick,  wishes  to  see  your  reve 
rence,"  continued  the  old  woman.  "  He  is  in  haste." 

"Admit  him,  and  then  go  to  bed,"  exclaimed  Fa 
ther  Huestace,  quickly  and  peremptorily. 

In  a  few  moments  the  hackman,  Patrick,  came 
staggering  into  the  room — not,  however,  from  the  ef 
fects  of  strong  drink,  but  from  the  effects,  as  it  turn 
ed  out,  of  apprehension.  Throwing  himself  into  a 
chair,  he  gazed  around  the  apartment,  fearfully  and 
speechlessly.  The  silence  which  followed  his  en 
trance,  was  painful,  to  me  at  least,  in  the  highest  de 
gree. 

Finally  the  priest  walked  'close  up  to  him,  and 
shading  his  eyes  with  his  hands  looked  him  full  in 
the  face.  Patrick's  countenance  was  as  pale  and  co 
lorless  as  the  white  vestments  of  the  grave. 

"It  is  accomplished!"  exclaimed  the  Jesuit,  as  he 


192  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

turned  away  from  the  panting  man  he  had  been  scru 
tinizing.  " lie  will  not  trouble  us  again,  Joseph!" 

"He?  What  he?"  I  inquired,  bewildered  by  his 
enigmatic  words. 

"Hist!"  broke  in  Patrick,  starting  from  his  chair, 
and  catching  the  priest  by  the  skirt  of  his  coat.  "I 
want  to  spake  to  ye'r  riverence.  But,  Howly  Mother, 
are  we  alone  ?  Won't  I  be  heard?" 

The  priest  rested  his  hands  upon  the  man's  head, 
and  addressed  him  with  almost  fatherly  tenderness. — 

"Speak,  Patrick,  and  as  freely  as  if  you  were  at 
the  confessional,"  he  said.  "All  here  are  bounden 
friends — friends  in  the  good  cause — and  no  one  else 
can  hear  you.  Let  your  words  be  what  they  may, 
you  have  nothing  to  fear,  but  every  thing  to  hope  for, 
from  us.  We  are  all  alike  servants  of  the  Church." 

I  shuddered;  for  I  intuitively  felt  that  a  tale  of 
blood  was  to  be  told.  Everything  denoted  a  deed 
of  horror. 

Patrick  cast  another  rapid  and  fearful  glance 
around  the  dim  apartment,  and  then  drawing  him 
self  close  up  beside  the  Jesuit,  he  placed  his  mouth 
to  his  ear  and  whispered ; — 

"  He's  dead— under  the  ice — gone — gone — forever!" 

An   involuntary   shudder,  like  an   electric   shock, 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  193 

passed  from  one  to  the  other  of  us.  Even  the 
scheming  Jesuit,  and  the  murderer,  were  unable  to 
repress  the  evidence  of  their  horror. 

Here  the  stimulating  contents  of  the  black  bottle 
were  brought  in  requisition.  Father  Huestace  and 
myself  having  each  tossed  off  a  modicum— involun 
tarily  I  followed  the  Jesuit's  lead — the  priest  ad 
dressed  Patrick,  who  sat  staring  at  us,  and  probably 
wondering  whether  he  was  to  get  any  of  that — to 
all  such  creatures  as  ]jimself — great  elixir— brandy. 

"  Here,  take  a  glass  of  this,"  said  he,  pouring  out 
a  tumbler  full  of  the  fiery  liquid.  "  You  are  weak 
and  nervous,  Patrick — this  will  give  you  strength." 

"Ye  may  well  say  I'm  wake,  ye'r  riverence,"  ex 
claimed  Patrick,  draining  his  glass  with  a  single 
breath.  "It's  wake  ye'd  be — it's  wake  inybody'd 
be,  if  they'd  seen,  and  heard,  and  dun  what  I  have !" 

"  Let  this  console  you,  Patrick,"  exclaimed  the 
priest,  cheeringly.  "  The  Church  commanded,  and 
the  Church  shall  absolve  you." 

Direct  reference  was  here  made  to  something,  but 
what,  I  did  not  then  understand. 

It  is  thus  that  far  too  many  of  the  Romish 
priests  encourage  sin,  and  shame,  and  crime — thus 
they  bribe  their  tools  to  the  commission  of  every 
9 


194  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

description  of  villainy— thus  they  arrogate  to  them 
selves  that  power  of  forgiveness  which  only  the 
Divinity  possesses. 

Then  that  man — that  brutal  wife-murderer — went 
on  to  relate  his  tale  of  terrible  murder,  while  the 
fiend  who  had  devised  and  instigated  the  fearful 
deed  sat  in  his  chair  as  immoveable  as  a  marble 
statue.  Yes,  with  coarse  words  he  proceeded  to 
tell  how  he  had  watched  Frank  Sinclair — for  there 
the  mystery  lay — all  the  day  long;  how  about  dark 
he  had  met  him,  as  if  just  by  accident — how  he 
put  on  a  false  face,  and  with  a  lying  tongue,  de 
clared  that  he  had  been  looking  for  him  for  a  long 
while,  for  that  he  had  news  of  the  young  lady  who 
had  been  stolen  away — that  she  was  not  dead,  but 
imprisoned,  and  that  he  could  lead  him  to  where 
she  was  concealed,  if  he  feared  not  to  follow,  and 
would  be  secret. 

At  this  point  Patrick  had  somewhat  recovered 
his  hardihood,  and  become  interested  in  his  re 
cital.  And  here  he  dwelt,  particularly,  upon  the 
young  man's  agony  and  anxiety,  as  if  he  fancied 
that  by  so  doing  he  would  the  better  please  the 
plotting  and  mendacious  priest.  And,  doubtless,  he 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  19-5 

did ;  but  nevertheless  /  could  have  stricken  him 
down,  had  -I  felt  myself  free  to  do  so. 

Again  he  went  on  to  tell  how  he  had  induced 
the  frenzied  youth  to  promise  that  he  would  meet 
him  a  few  hours  later  at  a  low  haunt  upon  the 
wharf;  how  he  had  obligated  him— by  the  hope  of 
finding  his  lost  Madelon — not  to  communicate  the 
circumstance  to  any  one,  and  to  come  entirely  alone 
— armed  to  the  teeth,  if  he  pleased,  but  alone;  how 
the  delusive  hope  of  saving  the  girl  had  induced  the 
youth  to  pledge  compliance  with  all  these  suspicious 
demands;  and  how  he  had  come  at  the  appointed 
hour,  and  fallen  into  the  base  and  murderous  trap 
which  had  been  set  for  him. 

"I  told  him,"  said  Patrick — (I  cannot  tell  the  story  in 
the  villain's  peculiar  diction,  and  therefore  will  not 
attempt  it) — and  a  darker  frown  gathered  upon  his 
dark  brow,  and  his  hoarse  whisper  became  deeper 
and  intenser — "I  told  him,  how,  that  on  such  a  night, 
I  had  seen  a  carriage,  containing  a  lady,  pass  that 
spot — we  were  standing,  at  the  time,  just  beyond 
the  Penn  Treaty  Tree— how  the  lady  had  screamed 
and  struggled,  as  it  passed  by  me — how  the  carriage 
was  driven  down  upon  the  ice,  and  across  to  the  other 
side — how  I  followed  close  behind,  thinking  that 


196  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

something  was  wrong — how  the  carriage  stopped  at 
the  door  of  a-  lonely  house  on  the  Jersey  side — I  re 
membered  it  well — where  the  lady  was  compelled  to 
alight  and  enter.  I  told  him  all  this,  and  more,  and 
the  crazy  fool  believed  every  word.  "I  come  for  thee, 
Madelon!"  he  cried,  and  then  like  a  maniac  dashed 
out  upon  the  ice.  "  Follow,  friend,  follow !  follow ! 
follow!"  he  continued  to  scream,  as  he  rushed  on,  re 
gardless  of  all  danger.  I  did  follow,  your  reverence, 
and  soon  coming  up,  kept  close  along  by  his  side. 
And  still  on  we  went,  us  two  lone  men,  running  side 
by  side,  at  the  top  of  our  speed.  The  night  is  dark, 
your  reverence,  dreadfully  dark;  ,  and  the  madman 
dashed  along  scarcely  looking  whither  he  was  going, 
except,  that  his  steps  conveyed  him  to  the  other  side. 
I  knew  the  path  well,  for  I  had  selected  it  during  the 
afternoon,  and  I  was  more  careful.  I  knew,  what 
he  did  not,  that  close  beside  the  path  was  a  deceitful 
hole,  into  which  he  might  fall" — the  priest  smiled, 
grimly, — "if  he  wasn't  more  guarded;  and  so  I  kept 
closer  by  his  side  than  before,  that  I  might  help  him, 
if  any  unfortunate  accident  should  happen." 

The  hackman  paused  to  gather  breath. 

"That   was    kind   of    you,  Patrick,"    said  Father 
Huestace, hypocritically ;  "very kind.   Continue!  Tell 


Tlie  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  197 

us,  how  the  young  man  succeeded.  I  am  interested ; 
and,  doubtless,  Joseph  is,  too." 

I  was  interested;  terribly,  fearfully,  painfully  in 
terested. 

"  By-and-bye,"  continued  Patrick — "  we  came  near 
the  weak  and  treacherous  spot.  I  looked  all  around 
— up  and  down  the  river,  and  towards  both  shores, 
but  I  couldn't  see  anybody.  I  listened,  but  I  couldn't 
hear  nothing  except  our  own  noise.  All  was  dark, 
and  still,  and  lonely.  Just  the  right  kind  of  a  night 
for  a  man  to  slip  under  the  ice,  and  nobody  know 
nothing  about  it.  And  all  the  time  the  gentleman 
by  my  side  kept  on  running  with  his  eyes  fixed  right 
ahead,  only  once  in  a  while  shouting,  "  I  come,  Ma- 
delon,  I  come ;"  and  all  the  time  I  kept  shoulder  to 
shoulder  with  him.  In  a  little  while  we  were  with 
in  a  few  feet  of  the  air-hole  ;  and  still  the  madman's 
eyes  were  fixed  right  ahead ;  in  a  little  while  more 
his  feet  were  upon  the  crumbling  ice.  Then  I 
stretched  my  mouth  up  to  his  ear,  and  whispered — 
"  You  will  soon  see  your  Madelon.  friend !"  "  Madelon, 
dear  Madelon !"  he  shouted ;  and  then  the  ice  crack 
ed  and  broke  beneath  his  feet,  and  he  sank  in  the 
cold  and  freezing  water.  I  started  back  quickly,  for 
fear  that  I  too  might  go  under,  and  I  had  not  bar- 


198  Made! on  Haiuley,  or 

gained  for  that.  The  drowning  man  caught  at  the 
thin  ice  with  desperate  energy,  but  the  brittle  stuff 
crumbled  at  his  touch  and  slid  away.  He  called 
upon  me  to  help  him,  for  God's  sake — offered  me 
gold — wealth — but  the  ice  was  too  thin  to  venture 
near,  and  no  one  else  was  by  to  help  him.  After  a 
while  he  must  have  got  weak  and  benumbed,  for  he 
suddenly  sank  out  of  sight  beneath  the  ice,  and  I 
couldn't  see  him  any  more.  He  died  hard,  hard,  your 
reverence ;  for  as  he  went  under,  he  shrieked,  terribly, 
fear—" 

At  that  moment  a  long,  wild,  terrific  wail,  echoed 
and  re-echoed  through  out  the  house.  It  chilled 
the  very  blood,  in  my  veins.  With  the  sound  we  all 
three  started,  and  for  a  moment  sto5fl  staring  at  each 
other.  Patrick  was  the  first  to  move.  Sinking  slow 
ly  down  upon  his  knees,  he  crossed  his  breast,  and 
began  to  mumble  over  quickly  his  aves  &&&  paters. 
The  priest  sprang  from  his  seat,  and  while  the  hack- 
man's  head  was  bowed  in  fear,  passed  silently  through 
the  panel  into  the  adjoining  apartment.  I  looked  on 
with  dumb  affright,  for  a  moment  almost  expecting 
to  behold  another  scene  of  violence  and  crime. 

In  a  few  moments  after  the  priest's  disappearance, 


DEOWNINQ  OF  FRANK  SINCLAIR 


The   Jesuit  and  Jiis  Victim.          199 

there  was  a  slight  struggle — a  faint  scream — a  few 
muttered  words,  and  all  was  quiet. 

Thrice  was  I  tempted  to  follow  the  Jesuit  into  the 
secret  chamber,  but  fear  restrained  me.  I  felt  anx 
ious  to  assist  Madelon,  if  need  be,  but  dreaded  more 
vthe  priest's  anger.  I  was  bewildered,  and  in  my  be 
wilderment  remained  passive  and  silent,  until  arous 
ed  by  the  voice  of  Patrick,  who  tremblingly  asked, 
what  had  become  of  his  reverence.  I  replied,  that 
he  had  gone  into  an  adjoining  apartment,  but  said 
nothing  concerning  the  panel,  when  I  discovered  that 
he  had  not  witnessed  the  priest's  exit.  After  that  we 
fell  into  a  whispered  conversation  I  wished  to  con 
ciliate  the  rascal,  that  I  might  learn  more  concerning 
the  murder  of  Frank  Sinclair — and  Patrick  finally 
seemed  to  gather  some  confidence  and  courage  from 
my  well-set  words.  At  length  I  ventured  to  ask, 
whether  the  priest  had  not  directed  him  to  first  en 
tice  young  Sinclair  upon  the  ice,  and  .then  push  him 
into  the  water. 

The  Irishman's  retort  was  just  what  I  expected. 
He  had.  Unmindful  of  our  safety — unmindful  of 
the  additional  risk  he  ran  in  having  Madelon  discov 
ered — unmindful  of  everything,  but  the  gratification 
of  his  own  ungovernable  hatred,  he  had  secretly 


200  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

planned  and  directed  the  accomplishment  of  this  un 
necessary  murder.  That  it  was  unnecessary,  uncall 
ed  for,  and  useless — neither  demanded  by  any  exigen 
cy  of  the  occasion,  nor  by  any  benefit  likely  to  ac 
crue  to  the  Church,  was  too  plainly  evident  for  me  to 
doubt,  nor  could  all  the  priest's  rhetoric  convince 
me  otherwise. 

At  that  moment  we  both  of  us  had  our  backs  to 
wards  the  panel,  which,  Father  Huestace  seeing,  em 
braced  the  opportunity  of  re-entering,  unobserved, 
the  library.  He  addressed  us  before  we  were  aware  of 
his  presence.  At  the  sound  of  his  voice  we  both 
turned  round  and  faced  him.  He  was  slightly  flush 
ed,  but  not  at  all  discomposed.  Without  waiting  to 
be  questioned,  he  proceeded  to  account  for  the  scream 
which  had  so  startled  us.  Madelon  had  revived,  he 
said,  and  had  been  listening  to  the  story  of  her  lov 
er's  death.  A  dreadful  history  for  her,  I  thought. 

Immediately  after  making  this  explanation,  which 
occupied  but  a  moment,  he  turned  to  the  door,  and 
unlocking  it,  would  have  passed  out  into  the  hall,  but 
that  the  form  of  the  old  housekeeper  confronted  him 
upon  the  sill.  She  was  dreadfully  frightened,  and 
had  arisen  in  haste  from  her  bed,  as  her  wiiole  appear 
ance  betokened. 


The  Jesuit  and  Ms    Victim.  201 

"  0,  Holy  Virgin,  what  a  shriek !"  she  exclaimed, 
clasping  her  hands  before  the  priest,  and  trembling 
in  every  nerve.  "I  never  heard  the  like  before  in  all 
my  life.  What  was  it,  your  reverence  ?  What  was 
it?" 

"Some  of  the  idle  people  in  the  back  street,  who 
have  been  drinking  and  got  into  a  quarrel,  I  sup 
pose,"  replied  the  priest,  hastily.  "I  am  going  to 
see." 

The  old  woman,  it  seems,  was  not  in  the  plot,  and 
knew  nothing  of  Madelon's  being  concealed  in  the 
house.  This  may  appear  strange,  but  I  assure  you, 
that  it  was  quite  possible. 

"But  it  sounded  just  as  if  it  was  in  the  house,  and 
frightened  me  so,  that  I  couldn't  lay  still!"  continued 
the  old  housekeeper,  and  her  teeth  fairly  chattered. 
"It  was  dreadful — dreadful!" 

"Nonsense,  Barbary,  nonsense !"  retorted  the  Jesuit, 
hastily,  and  with  considerable  impatience.  "You 
were  but  partially  awake  when  you  heard  the  noise, 
and  have  magnified  the  sound.  It  came  from  the 
back  street,  I  am  sure.  Some  brute  has  been  beating 
his  wife,  most  likely ;  such  things,  you  know,  are  not 
unusual  occurrences  in  this  locality.  It  is  nothing, 
9* 


202  Madelon  Ilawl&y,  or 

however,  that  will  harm  you — so  to  bed,  Barbary,  and 
sleep  in  peace." 

The  old  woman,  still  muttering,  turned  to  depart ; 
and  the  priest  stood  gazing  after  her,  until  the  slight 
echo  of  her  footsteps  could  no  longer  be  heard.  At 
length,  apparently  satisfied  that  she  was  out  of  sight 
and  hearing,  he  turned  round  to  Patrick  and  myself, 
and  cautioning  us  to  remain  quiet,  he  closed  the  li 
brary  door  and  disappeared.  In  a  few  minutes 
he  re-appeared  again. 

"I  have  been  to  the  front  door,"  said  he — "and  eve 
rything  appears  to  be  quiet.  The  night  is  too  deep 
for  many  to  be  abroad;  and  even,  if  heard,  a 
scream  in  this  quarter  would  not  be  likely  to  at 
tract  much  attention.  There  does  not,  however,  ap 
pear  to  be  any  alarm;  consequently,  I  conclude,  that 
no  one  heard  Madelon,  except  old  Barbary,  and  we 
have  nothing  to  fear  from  her.  And  now  a  glass  of 
something  strong  to  drive  away  the  vapors." 

Having  each  drank  off  a  portion  of  the  liquor, 
the  priest  remarked  ;— 

"You  had  not  finished  your  narrative,  Patrick. 
Continue.  We  shall  not  now  be  disturbed." 

After  an  apparently  thoughtful  pause,  Patrick  re 
sumed  his  recital,  something  as  follows. 


The  Jesuit  and  liifs  Victim,  203 

"  I  told  your  reverence,  how  the  man  sank  away  un 
der  the  ice,  and  how  he  shrieked;" — here  Patrick 
cast  his  eyes  around  the  room  suspiciously ;  "  I  never 
heard  but  one  shriek  like  it — only  one,  your  reve 
rence,  only  one ;  and  that  I  shall  never  forget.  It — 
was— just — like — Tier's ;  Holy  Virgin !  just  like  tier's, 
when  the  hatchet  crushed  in  her  skull!"  here  the 
brute's  manner  became  horribly,  frightfully  intense. 
"That  shriek  made  me  think  about  her,  and  I  began 
to  shake  in  the  limbs — it  was  so  dark,  and  cold,  and 
still.  I  was  afraid  to  move  away,  and  afraid  to  re 
main  where  I  was.  After  a  little  while  I  heard  an 
other  shriek,  and  then  another,  and  the  last  one 
sounded  to  me  away  under  the  ice.  The  first  was 
her  voice — I'd  swear  to  it  among  ten  thousand — the 
other  was  his,  for  it  was  just  like  the  shriek  he  gave, 
when  he  sank  away  under  the  crumbling  ice.  Holy 
Mother,  how  fearfully  the  sounds  echoed  and  re-echo 
ed  !  I  stood  it  as  long  as  I  could,  but  at  last,  with  a 
yell,  I  started  off  on  a  desperate  run.  I  never  once 
looked  back,  for  somehow,  I  fancied,  that  they  both 
were  at  my  heels,  and  I  didn't  want  to  see  them.  Her 
bloody  face,  and  his  white  brow,  would  have  struck 
me  dead.  It  was  a  long,  long  run,  from  there  to  here, 
your  reverence,  but  I  never  once  stopped,  till  I  stood 


204  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

at  the  door  out  there.  Then  I  felt  safe,  and  breathed 
freer ;  for  I  knew  that  your  reverence  could  and 
would  absolve  me  from  the  deed,  and  protect  me 
even  from  the  fiends.  Then  I  turned  round  and  cross 
ed  myself,  and  they — Kathleen  and  the  strange  man — 
turned  and  fled  away  together.  I  saw  it  all  as  plain 
ly  as  I  see  you,  and  my  blood  curdled  at  the  sight." 

There  was  ignorance — there  was  bigotry.  That 
man,  who  stood  there  before  rne,  reeking  with  the 
blood  of  two  human  beings — the  wife  whom  he  had 
sworn  to  cherish  and  protect,  and  the  stranger  whom 
he  had  treacherously  misled  to  death — even  that  man, 
with  the  shrieks  of  his  murdered  victims  dragging 
him  down,  down  to  hell,  imagined  himself  safe  under 
the  protection  of  the  .Church,  and  vainly  flattered 
himself  with  the  blasphemous  delusion,  that  the 
priest  was  endowed  with  the  Creator's  power  to  for 
give  and  forget.  And  confident  in  that  most  danger 
ous  of  all  delusions,  the  wretch  could  live,  and  in  a 
measure  be  happy — could  die,  and  be  content.  And 
the  priest,  as  the  tenets  of  his  faith  directed,  encour 
aged  and  confirmed  the  dark  superstition. 

"You  were  right,  Patrick,  when  you  thought  that 
here  you  were  safe — that  here,  at  least,  you  were  se 
cure  from  all  danger,"  exclaimed  the  priest,  confi- 


The  Jesuit  and  Ms  Victim.  205 

dently.  "Though  the  spirits  of  a  thousand  dead 
people  pursued  you,  they  dare  not  cross  the  threshold 
of  the  Church  to  injure  one  of  the  faithful.  Be  as 
sured,  Patrick,  that,  if  the  intention  is  good,  the  deed, 
whatever  it  is,  will  be  forgiven.  Behold!" — the  priest 
pointed  to  a  wooden  image  of  the  Virgin,  and  Patrick 
prostrated  himself  upon  his  knees; — "behold!  the 
Blessed  Mother  even  now  smiles  upon  you;  it  is  a 
token  of  her  favor — an  indication  of  that  forgive 
ness  you  have  merited  at  her  hands.  Besides,  if  Mr. 
Sinclair,  at  least,  had  not  rushed  along  with  such  im 
prudent  haste,  he  would  have  seen  the  treacherous 
spot,  and  not  been — " 

"Murdered!"  I  involuntarily  broke  in,  and  a  cold 
shudder  crept  over  me  at  the  sound  of  my  own  voice. 
It  was,  as  if  some  power,  over  which  I  had  no  con 
trol,  had  urged  me  to  the  utterance.  The  sound  fill 
ed  the  room,  and  yet  my  lips  did  not  seem  to  move. 

The  plainly  spoken,  terrible  sounding  word,  caused 
a  visible  start  in  both  the  Jesuit  and  Patrick. 

"Murdered!"  echoed  the  latter,  quickly,  loudly,  ab 
ruptly,  and  almost  fiercely. 

"Be  quiet,  Patrick,  or  lower  your  voice!"  cried  Fa 
ther  Huestace,  catching  him  by  the  arm.  "If  you 


206  Madelon  Ilawley,  or 

continue  in  that  tone,  you  might  as  well  go  cry  your 
words  upon  the  corner!" 

"D'ye  mind  the  ugly  word  he  used,  y'er  riverence?" 
continued  Patrick,  having  lowered  his  voice  to  a  whis 
per.  "Murdered!  As  if  I'd  murder  the  young  man! 
Ugh!  what  an  ugly  word.  Bedad,  it  frightens  me. 
Murdered!  No,  indade!  The  young  man  fell  into  the 
river  accidentally.  That's  the  way  uv  it,  isn't  it,  ye'r 
riverence  ?  particularly  to  them  as  can  take  a  hint." 

"  Of  course  he  fell  in  accidentally,  Patrick.  Who 
would  doubt  it  if  we  said  so  ?"  and  the  Jesuit  fixed 
his  eyes  upon  my  face,  as  if  to  intimidate  me.  "Be 
easy,  Patrick,  be  easy.  And  Joseph  must  not  express 
such  unseemly  conclusions.  They  frighten  honest 
people — and  of  such  are  we — besides  being  danger 
ous  to  the  utterer.  Mr.  Sinclair  fell  into  the  river — 
let  me  hear  no  more  of  murder  /" 

The  priest  enunciated  the  last  word  emphatically; 
but  still  I  took  no  notice  of  the  covert  threat  which 
they  contained,  for  the  time  had  not  yet  come.  A 
breach,  however,  had  been  opened  between  us,  and 
every  time  we  met  it  widened.  The  train  was  al 
ready  sprung — in  a  brief  time  followed  the  explo 
sion. 

"And  now,  Patrick,  it  were  best  that  you  go  home. 


The  Jesuit  and  Ms   Victim.  207 

But  mind,  no  more  drinking  to  night,"  said  Father 
Huestace,  sternly.  "I  want  you  to  go  from  here 
straight  home  and  to  bed.  Do  otherwise,  and  you 
were  better  under  the  ice  with  Frank  Sinclair.  Do 
as  I  bid  you,  and  both  spiritually  and  temporally,  you 
will  find  favor  in  my  sight." 

Patrick  earnestly  protested  his  willingness  to  do 
whatever  the  priest  directed;  and  kneeling  down  be 
fore  the  latter,  he  supplicated  a  parting  blessing.  The 
Jesuit  crossed  his  hands  upon  his  bosom — lifted  his 
eyes  impiously  on  high,  and  mumbled  over  a  sense 
less  prayer,  at  the  conclusion  of  which  Patrick  kissed 
the  crucifix  and  departed  satisfied. 

And  then  the  priest  and  myself  were  alone. 

For  several  moments  after  Patrick's  departure,  Fa 
ther  Huestace  continued  to  regard  me  closely,  sternly, 
suspiciously,  and  it  might  be  hatefully ;  for  that  he 
had  grown  to  dislike  me,  and  would  some  day  turn  up 
on  me,  I  felt  convinced.  It  was  a  piercing,  diabolical 
glance,  and  I  could  not  brave  it.  My  eyes,  against 
my  will,  sought  the  floor. 

"Joseph,"  said  he,  at  length,  slowly  and  deeply, 
but  still  not  angrily,  as  I  had  anticipated. 

I  looked  up  somewhat  more  confidently.  The 
sound  of  the  human  voice,  no  matter  to  what  key  at- 


208  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

tuned,  always  did  encourage  and  animate  me.  The 
priest's  brow  was  unclouded.  Where  but  a  moment 
before  had  lowered  the  darkest  frowns,  all  now  was 
calm,  and  clear,  and  pleasant.  The  change  was  as 
great  as  it  was  sudden,  and  one  who  had  not  known 
the  crafty  Papist,  would  have  been  at  a  loss  to  ac 
count  for  it.  I  knew  by  that  time,  however,  that  his 
smile  was  as  much  to  be  feared  as  his  darkest  frown 
— that  his  deceit  was  full  as  deep  as  his  hatred. 

"Joseph," — he  continued  again,  after  a  pause;  "I 
like  not  these  evidences  of  your  lessoning  interest  in 
the  welfare  and  prosperity  of  the  Holy  Church.  They 
indicate  something,  I  am  sure.  You  grow  cold,  and 
haggle  at  the  performance  of  those  things  which 
every  true  and  faithful  child  of  the  Church  should 
glory  in  and  be  proud  of.  You  work  mechanically, 
and  not  with  that  zealous  warmth  which  the  Church 
expects  and  demands  even  of  her  meanest  followers. 
These  heretics  are  our  natural  enemies,  and  to  put 
one  of  them  out  of  the  way,  is  not  to  murder.  Re 
flect,  Joseph,  reflect!  You  are  young,  and  should  not 
imbibe  such  notions — they  are  heretical  to  the 
Church,  and  lead  to  difficulties  and  troubles  unnum 
bered.  Our  duty  is  clear  and  unmistakable ;  and  un- 
escapable  too,  even  should  our  wishes  tend  that  way. 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.          209 

You  have  acted  strangely  on  several  occasions,  Joseph; 
and  any  other  than  myself  would  have  mistrusted  you. 
I,  however,  think  that  I  know  you  better.  But 
enough  of  this  now.  You  will  ponder  over  what  I  have 
said,  and  profit  by  it.  It  is  getting  late,  und  I  have 
yet  something  to  say  upon  another  subject." 

I  did  not  once  interrupt  the  priest  with  either  an 
excuse  or  a  profession.  In  my  heart  I  knew  that  his 
words  were  not  sincere  —that  his  convictions  were  of 
a  different  cast,  and  that  all  the  falsehoods  I  could 
utter — even  should  I  descend  to  such  a  course-^would 
not  change  either  his  opinion  or  his  determination. 

"  This  girl  must  be  provided  for,"  he  continued,  af 
ter  a  pause,  which  he  evidently  intended  should  give 
effect  to  his  previous  words.  "Circumstances,  as  you 
are  aware,  are  becoming  urgent.  The  clamor  is 
growing  loud  ;  and  besides,  she  is  also  getting  trouble 
some.  For  the  purpose  of  keeping  her  quiet,  I  have, 
since  she  has  been  here,  kept  her  so  dosed  with  nar 
cotics,  that  even  her  robust  frame  is  fast  giving  way 
under  their  deleterious  effect.  Only  at  certain  times 
have  I  allowed  her  to  become  conscious,  and  then  she 
has  annoyed  me  excessively.  Food  I  have  been  com 
pelled  to  force  down  her  throat,  to  prevent  her  from 
funking  entirely.  To  night,  as  you  have  seen,  her 


210  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

strong  constitution  rallied.  At  almost  any  other  time 
that  scream  would  have  ruined  us.  To  prevent  a  re 
currence  of  what  transpired  this  evening,  and  thus  ef 
fectually  secure  us  from  discovery  until  the  girl  is 
taken  hence,  I  have  removed  her  to  a  still  more  im 
penetrable  apartment." 

"Whither?"  I  briefly  demanded,  without  display 
ing  the  interest  that  I  really  felt. 

"Draw  close  and  listen,"  continued  Father  Hues- 
tace.  "  Beneath  that  room,  of  whose  existence  so  few 
are  aware,  there  is  a  small  vault,  a  knowledge  of 
which  still  fewer  possess.  It  is  entered  by  a  trap 
that  is  artfully  concealed  in  the  floor,  and  would 
not  be  seen,  even  if  it  were  not  hid  by  the  carpet.  It 
is  a  damp  unwholesome  place,  but  I  had  no  alterna 
tive.  Upon  hearing  Madelon's  sudden  and  fearful 
scream,  I  entered  that  apartment,  as  you  know,  and 
found  her  arisen,  and  sufficiently  conscious  to  under 
stand  all  that  was  said.  Fearful  of  still  further  de 
monstrations  on  her  part— either  at  the  present  time, 
or  on  some  future  occasion  still  more  inopportune — 
which  from  that  room" — and  he  pointed  to  the  secret 
chamber — "might  be  heard  in  the  street,  and  could 
be  heard  in  any  part  of  the  house,  I  conveyed  her  into 
the  vault  beneath,  where  she  now  is,  and  where  she 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.          211 

will  have  to  remain  until  she  quits  this  place  forever  > 
which  will  not,  however,  be  long.  In  fact,  she  could 
not  exist  there  for  any  considerable  period;  still  I 
could  not  permit  her  to  remain  any  longer  in  that 
apartment,  particularly  after  having  heard  Patrick; 
unless,  indeed,  I  completely  deadened  her  with  opiates, 
and  that  I  do  not  wish  to  do.  The  first  conscious 
moment  she  has  she  will  be  sure  to  rave  of  what  she 
unfortunately  overheard  this  evening." 

"Doubtless,"  I  replied,  with  a  shudder.  "It  would 
be  but  natural." 

"If  she  raves  now,  however," — continued  the  priest, 
— "the  stone  walls  alone  will  hear  her."  Here  he 
paused  for  a  moment,  and  then  continued;  "the  lover 
gone,  and  the  girl  in  my  power,  makes  our  triumph 
complete.  I  would  crush  the  rest,  if  I  could ;  but 
that,  Joseph,  is  too  much  of  an  undertaking.  I  can 
but  curse  the  heretics." 

"But,  your  reverence,  will  not  young  Sinclair's  dis 
appearance — known,  as  he  is,  at  least  by  some,  to  be 
Madelon's  accepted  lover— coming  so  soon  after  her 
abduction,  create  an  intense  excitement,  and  lead  to 
an  investigation  that  will  prove  unescapable  ? "  I  in 
quired,  as  a  recollection  of  the  young  man's  treacherous 
murder  flitted  through  my  mind. 


212  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

"The  cry  is  already  up — the  alarm  already  given!" 
rejoined  the  priest,  with  excitement.     "Madelon's  dis 
appearance  is  the  town-talk.     It  forms  the  staple  of 
conversation  alike  in  the  church  and  the  theatre,  the 
family  circle  and    the  street;    and  this  will  be  but 
adding  another  coal  to  the  fire.     In  such  matters  as 
these,  men  must  risk  much ;  and  trust  much  to  good 
fortune.     Even  I  say  to  you  what  to  others  I  would 
not,  that  there  are  things  over  which  no  human  being 
has  any  control.     We  may  calculate,  and  scheme,  and 
plan,  and  fortify,  and  thus  accomplish  mucn,  as  in  the 
present  case  ;  but  we  are  not  infallible.     The  prisoner 
may  escape  from  the  deepest  dungeon,  and  so  may  our 
best  and  strongest  plans  be  frustrated.     The  ignorant 
believe  not  this,  but  we  know  it.     In  the  matter  of 
Frank  Sinclair's  disappearance,  however,  the  mystery, 
for  the  present,  at  least,  is  impenetrable.     Nothing  is 
at  all  likely  to  be  discovered  until  the  breaking  up  of 
the  ice  in  the  spring — nearly  two  months  yet — and  by 
that   time   the  appearance  of  the   body  will   be  so 
changed,  that  his  own  mother  would  not  be  likely  to 
recognize  him.    With  the  facts  of  the  case  but  three 
persons  are  acquainted — Patrick,  yourself,  and  myself. 
You  will  not,  and  he  dare  not,  betray  the  secret." 
I  was   of    course  compelled   to  acknowledge   the 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  213 

priest  correct  in  his  conclusions  generally,  even  to  his 
last  assertion  that  I  would  not  betray  him ;  for  at  that 
time  my  resolution  was  still  unsettled  and  vascillating 
— my  course  undecided  and  weak. 

"But  enough  of  this  for  to  night,"  he  continued, 
after  a  slight  pause,  at  the  same  time  vacating  his 
chair.  "  It  is  growing  very  late,  and  I  am  unusually 
weary.  I  had  designed  communicating  to  you  some 
things  which  now  I  am  too  fatigued  to  enter  upon.  I 
will  say,  however,  that  I  have  a  commission  for  you  to 
execute  which  will  take  you  away  from  this  city ;  that 
Patrick  will  accompany  you ;  and  that  you  must  start 
almost  immediately.  The  affair  relates  to  Madelon, 
and  our  future  security.  Ask  me  no  questions  now,'* 
he  continued,  perceiving  that  I  was  about  to  address 
him,  "  but  hasten  hence  and  get  a  night's  rest.  To 
morrow  call  upon  Patrick— I  neglected  making  my 
wishes  known  to  him  when  he  was  here — and  send 
him  to  me ;  and  be  yourself,  here  by  twelve  to 
morrow  night,  prepared  for  a  journey.  At  that  time 
I  will  have  all  things  in  readiness  for  your  departure. 
You  need  not  come  before — unless,  indeed,  you  have 
something  of  importance  to  communicate — but  be 
sure" — and  the  priest  ejaculated  the  words  slowly — 


214  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

u  you  do  not  fail  me  then.    Now  go  your  way.    Good 
night!" 

Without  further  parley,  I  took  leave,  my  mind  com 
pletely  bewildered  with  conflicting  thoughts. 


The  Jesuit  and  Ids  Victim.  215 


CHAPTER    XI 

Almost  unconsciously — mechanically,  as  it  were — I 
followed  the  priest's  directions.  In  his  hands  I  had 
almost  lost  my  own  identity — had  become  a  mere  in 
strument  played  upon  at  another's  will.  In  complying 
with  the  priest's  commands — for  such  they  had  got  to 
be — I  violated  my  own  conscience,  and  yet  could  not 
have  explained  why  I  did  so,  otherwise  than  as  I  have 
just  stated.  I  weighed  well  every  word  that  was 
uttered — scrutinized  every  deed  that  was  committed, 
and  yet  went  on  countenancing,  and  even  assisting  in 
many  of  the  nefarious  transactions.  My  own  conduct 
was  an  anomaly.  I  was  feeble  in  right-doing,  and  the 
crafty  Jesuit  profited  by  the  advantage  of  my  mental 
imbecility.  I  could  see  the  dark  vortex  that  yawned 
before  me,  and  yet  had  not  the  power  to  stem  the 
current  that  bore  me  onward  to  destruction.  With 
closed  eyes  I  drifted  on,  hourly  'sinking  deeper  and 


216  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

deeper  in  the  flood  of  sin.     It  seemed  as  if  a  thunder 
bolt  alone  would  awaken  my  enslaved  energies. 

In  accordance  with  the  priest's  directions,  I  did  not 
make  my  appearance  at  the  church  until  late  the  fol 
lowing  night — after  twelve  o'clock,  I  think. 

During  the  intermediate  time  the  excitement  in 
regard  to  Madelon's  abduction  still  continued  at  the 
ebb ;  added  to  which  was  then  a  greater  excitement 
in  relation  to  young  Sinclair's  disappearance,  which 
had  by  this  time  begun  to  agitate  the  public  mind. 
The  two  events  coming  so  close  upon  one  another  al 
most  paralyzed  the  mass  of  the  people ;  and  in  the 
confusion  and  dismay  110  steps  were  taken  towards  a 
discovery  until  it  was  too  late.  Suspicion  pointed  its 
unerring  finger  towards  the  priest ;  but  still  there  was 
an  absence  of  all  proof;  consequently  a  delay  occurred 
most  favorable  to  Father  Huestace. 

As  I  before  remarked,  I  repaired  to  the  church  at 
the  designated  hour.  Upon  my  arrival,  I  found  Father 
Huestace  and  the  hackman,  Patrick,  in  close  consul 
tation.  The  latter,  as  I  immediately  noticed  from  the 
singularity  of  the  circumstance,  was  much  more  neat 
ly  dressed  than  usual.  In  general  he  looked  coarse 
and  dirty  ;  but  now  his  whole  appearance  was  changed 
for  the  better. 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  217 

The  priest  welcomed  me  cordially — or  at  least  a 
looker-on  would  have  thought  so — directed  me  to  a 
seat,  and  then  called  my  attention  to  business. 

"  Briefly,  my  good  Joseph,  for  our  time  is  short  and 
pressing,"  said  he,  with  well-dissembled  kindness. 
"Words,  save  when  directly  to  the  point,  are  idle. 
Mark  then.  I  want  you,  with  Patrick's  assistance,  to 
convey  Madelon  to  the  Black  Nunnery  at  Montreal. 
I  have  already  communicated  with  Patrick  upon  the 
subject,  and  as  I  anticipated,  he  is  ready  and  willing 
to  help  me  in  this  last  and  important  service.  It  only 
now  remains  for  me  to  give  you  your  directions.  Of 
course  you  will  not  object  to  the  business,  as  the  com 
plete  triumph  of  the  Church  demands,  and  our  safety 
requires,  it." 

The  hypocritical  Jesuit  still  harped  upon  the 
Church,  seeking  to  conceal  beneath  that  covering  his 
own  brutal  passions. 

"The  officers  of  justice  are  hot  upon  the  scent," — 
he  continued,  "  and  we  have  not  a  moment  to  lose. 
Evidence  has  transpired  upon  the  investigation  which 
is  now  in  progress,  that  points  inevitably  towards  me. 
Assuredly  to-morrow  this  house  and  the  church  will 
be  thoroughly  searched;  and  there  must  be  nothing 
which  they  can  possibly  discover— nothing  to  confirm 
9 


218  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

the  charges  which  have  been  indirectly  brought  against 
me.  In  this  we  are  all  interested ;  for,  as  I  said  be 
fore,  if  I  fall  through  the  act  of  another  it  is  not  my 
self  alone  that  fall  shall  surely  overwhelm.  But  to 
the  point.  You  and  Patrick  are  not  marked,  as  far  as 
I  can  judge,  and  therefore  can  leave  the  city  unsus 
pected.  I  must  remain  to  quiet  the  authorities.  Your 
own  judgment,  Joseph,  will  convince  you  of  the  pro 
priety,  nay,  necessity  of  assisting  me,  and  cheerfully. 
The  plan  I  have  adopted  is  slow  and  hazardous,  but 
still  the  most  feasible  one  I  could  hit  upon.  I  would 
not  yet  have  attempted  her  removal,  but  for  the  reasons 
I  have  stated." 

"But  how  is  it  to  be  accomplished?"  I  inquired. 
"  The  distance  is -great,  and  the  season  of  the  year  bad. 
Besides  our  charge  will  be  a  peculiar  one." 

The  priest  did  not  answer  me  directly,  but  first 
turned  to  the  hackman. 

"  Patrick," — said  he, — "  time  advances.  You  have 
some  distance  to  go,  and  had  better  now  start  for  your 
vehicle.  But  mark!  the  hour  is  late,  and  you  may  be 
questioned.  Be  careful  what  you  say,  and  above  all 
things  be  sure  that  you  are  not  followed.  Much  de 
pends  upon  your  conduct.  And  now,  Joseph,  follow 
me." 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  219 

Patrick  had  quitted  the  library  before  the  priest 
addressed  me ;  and  as  the  Jesuit  opened  the  panel 
and  passed  through  into  the  secret  apartment,  I  fol 
lowed  him.  Leaving  the  door  open,  the  light  from 
the  library  faintly  illuminated  the  interior  room. 
Shudderingly  I  beheld  a  black  coffin  resting  upon  the 
narrow  bed.  The  lid,  heavily  mounted  with  a  silver 
crucifix,  stood  against  the  wall,  at  the  head  of  the 
couch. 

"  Behold  my  answer,  Joseph ! "  exclaimed  the  priest, 
as  we  both  leaned  over,  and  gazed  into  the  narrow 
box. 

"  Dead ! "  I  exclaimed,  completely  carried  away  and 
deceived  by  the  sight  that  met  my  eyes. 

There  before  me,  stretched  out  in  the  close  coffin, 
and  clad  in  all  the  cold,' white,  paraphernalia  of  the 
grave,  reposed  in  death-like  silence,  the  persecuted 
Madelon.  Her  eyes  were  tightly  closed,  and  the  long 
black  lashes  lay  drooping  upon  the  fair  white  skin. 
And  even  dead,  as  she  seemed,  and  as  I  for  the  mo 
ment  fancied  her,  she  looked  exquisitely  lovely.  I 
bent  over  the  coffin  fascinated.  The  stern  voice  of 
the  plotting  priest  aroused  me. 

"Not  dead,  Joseph;  only  sleeping,"  he  said.  "She 
will  awake  when  needful,  without  a  doubt." 


220  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

Then  I  saw  it  all — saw  what  the  priest  contem 
plated — saw  the  trick  he  designed  accomplishing  with 
our  assistance.  Madelon  was  not  dead,  but  only 
drugged.  It  was  but  another  deception—  a  brutal 
one  to  the  girl,  however — to  be  added  to  the  many 
that  I  had  already  witnessed. 

"  You  comprehend  my  plan,  Joseph,  do  you  not  ? " 
quoth  the  priest. 

"  Yes,"  I  replied,  still  gazing  upon  poor  Madelon, 
with  pitying  interest. 

"You  must  certainly  concur  in  my  arrangements, 
Joseph,"  continued  Father  Huestace.  "You  must  be 
as  well  aware  as  I  am,  that  otherwise  than  as  she  now 
is,  we  could  not  remove  her.  The  tax  upon  her  strength 
will  be  great,  I  admit,  but  we  are  driven  to  this  point ; 
and  we  must  not  be  discovered,  even  should  she  perish." 

"Right,  your  reverence, right!"  I  muttered,  indiffer 
ent  to  everything  but  the  forlorn  situation  of  our 
victim — for  she  was  as  well  my  victim  as  the  Jesuit's. 
"  I  understand  all,  and  am  ready.  "What  next  ?  " 

The  priest  did  not  half  like  my  readiness,  that  was 
evident.  However,  he  went  on  with  the  necessary 
preparations  without  apparently  heeding  it,  doubtless 
thinking  that  that,  at  least,  was  not  the  proper  time 
to  notice  it. 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  221 

For  my  own  par t,  I  was  anxious  to  get  to  the  end  of  the 
tragedy,  for  I  felt  that  a  crisis  was  approaching  which 
would  endanger  either  the  stony-hearted,  scheming, 
hypocritical  Jesuit,  or  myself.  How,  when,  or  where, 
however,  I  had  no  suspicion.  A  cloud  obscured  my 
vision;  but  sometimes  a  glimpse  of  coming  events 
would  break  through  it.  Each  circling  hour  brought 
the  climax  nearer. 

As  I  said,  the  priest  took  no  especial  notice  of  my 
ready  compliance,  but  proceeded  to  arrange  the  lid 
upon  the  coffin,  and  then  to  screw  it  down,  informing 
me  at  the  same  time,  that  it  was  well  ventilated,  and 
in  every  way  expressly  adapted  for  just  such  a  use  as 
it  was  about  being  put  to. 

At  his  direction  I  then  assisted  him  to  carry  it  into 
the  library,  where  we  placed  it  lengthwise  upon  se 
veral  chairs.  As  we  passed  out  the  priest  closed  the 
secret  door,  leaving  no  trace  of  the.  hidden  apartment. 

Of  course  I  have  not  stated  all  the  conversation 
that  occurred,  nor  related  all  the  little  events  that 
transpired,  and  which  contributed  to  consume  time. 
Such  a  course  would  have  been  wearisome  to  both  you 
and  myself.  Several  hours  had  now  slipped  past,  and 
morning  was  rapidly  approaching.  According  to  the 
travellings  arrangements;  a  stage  left  this  city  for 


222  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

Trenton  at  four  o'clock.  Thence  by  a  similar  con 
veyance  we  would  cross  to  New  Brunswick,  and  so  on 
to  New- York. 

Just  about  this  time  a  vehicle  drove  up  in  the  vici 
nity  of  the  church,  but  so  noiselessly  that  others,  not 
like  ourselves,  on  the  watch  for  even  the  most  trifling 
occurrence,  would  not  have  heard  it.  The  ground  being 
still  covered  with  ice  and  snow,  its  silent  approach 
was  not,  of  course,  surprising. 

In  a  few  moments  after,  Patrick  stole  into  the  library, 
and  whispered  that  all  was  in  readiness,  and  every 
thing  safe.  Father  Huestace  himself  then  walked  out 
to  the  front  of  the  church,  and  looked,  and  listened. 
Returning  in  a  few  minutes  he  beckoned  us  to  his  side. 

"And  now  a  few  final  directions,"  he  said.  "Stand 
close,  for  I  do  not  wish  to  talk  aloud,  even  here.  So 
far  everything  is  prosperous;  but  to  accomplish  your 
journey  successfully,  you  must  be  bold  and  cun 
ning,  and  never  at  a  loss  for  a  ready  answer,  a  plau 
sible  excuse,  or  a  natural  explanation.  To  you,  Jo 
seph,  I  particularly  address  these  instructions ;  for  you 
are  better  adapted  both  by  education  and  association,  to 
successfully  practice  them.  Patrick  is  only  to  carry 
out  your  instructions.  Upon  you  rests  the  responsi 
bility.  Now,  the  greatest  danger  that  you  will  pro- 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  223 

bably  encounter,  will  be  in  getting  away  from  this 
city.  If  you  accomplish  that  successfully,  the  battle, 
as  I  may  say,  is  won.  If  we  are  suspected  and  watched, 
you  may  be  detected  and  defeated;  if  not,  your  depar 
ture  will  be  easy.  Against  that  it  was  impossible  for 
me  to  guard.  But  once  off,  never  stop  longer  than  is 
actually  necessary  until  you  are  at  your  journey's  end. 
Of  course,  at  the  various  cities  along  the  route  you  will 
be  compelled  to  remain  for  a  short  period.  At  such 
times,  Joseph,  you  will  act  according  to  the  instruc 
tions  which  I  have  already  given  you.  Upon  arriving 
at  Montreal  you  will  hasten  immediately  to  the  Semi 
nary,  and  present  the  letter  with  which  I  have  sup 
plied  you.  That  explains  all,  and  will  insure  you  a 
welcome.  And  now  let  us  make  ready,  for  Patrick 
has  to  see  to  his  vehicle  after  the  coffin  is  deposited 
at  the  stage-office. 

While  the  priest  is  busy  re-examining  the  coffin,  to 
make  sure  that  all  is  right,  I  will  give  you  an  out 
line  of  the  secret  instructions  with  which  he  had  fur 
nished  me.  At  the  several  points  along  the  route  at 
which  we  were  compelled  to  stop,  I  was  to  seek  out 
particular  priests — Jesuits  I  suppose — and  deliver  into 
their  hands  certain  letters,  -which  would  insure  me 
their  hearty  co-operation. 


224  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

While  executing  this  portion  of  my  directions,  Pa 
trick  was  to  stand  guard  over  the  coffin ;  and  as  soon 
as  the  different  individuals  were  notified  of  my  arrival, 
I  was  to  see  that  our  charge  was  conveyed  to  whatever 
place  they  directed,  and  there  opened.  At  certain 
times,  and  in  just  such  quantities,  I  was  to  administer 
the  opiate.  The  priest  was  very  particular  to  impress 
-'upon  me  the  necessity  of  being  extremely  careful  in 
this  respect,  as  too  little  might  allow  of  her  reviving, 
and  too  much  might  cause  her  to  sleep  so  sound  that 
she  would  never  awake  ;  and  neither  result  was  what 
he  desired,  just  then,  at  least.  Patrick  was  to  accom 
pany  me  as  far  as  Montreal,  and  then  return.  I  was 
to  remain  at  the  Seminary  until  Father  Huestace  him 
self  arrived,  when  I  would  receive  what  further  in 
structions  were  necessary 

Do  you  not  see  what  an  abject  slave  I  had  got  to  be ; 
in  the  hands  of  this  tyrannical  and  scheming  Jesuit  ? 
0,  even  the  thin  blood  of  my  old  age  rushes  through 
my  veins  more  quickly,  as  I  reflect  upon  it ;  and  the 
memory  of  the  past  darkens  my  closing  hours.  Fool, 
that  I  was,  to  be  so  misled ! 

A  little  of  that  anodyne,  if  you  please ;  for  my  lips 
are  hot  and  parched,  and  my  eyes  see  dimly,  as  in  a 
cloudy  mirror.  There,  thank  you — I  feel  better  and 


The  Jesuit  and  Ms  Victim.  225 

stronger  now.  A  little  rest,  and  I  shall  be  able  to 
proceed;  and  soon  I  shall  stand  confessed  before  you. 

(In  a  few  moments  he  resumed  his  singular  nar 
rative.) 

At  length  the  priest  placed  a  well  filled  purse  in 
my  hand,  and  signified  that  everything  was  in  pro 
per  condition  for  starting.  Extinguishing  the  light, 
he  threw  the  door  open  into  the  hall,  and  passed  out, 
directing  Patrick  and  myself  to  take  up  the  coffin 
and  follow  him.  Without  uttering  a  word  we  obeyed 
his  instructions.  At  the  front-door  he  again  stopped 
and  listened  attentively.  Apparently  satisfied  with 
the  condition  of  things  in  the  street,  he  turned  round 
and  whispered  us  to  pass  out.  That  we  immediately 
did;  leaving  him  concealed  behind  the  half-closed  door. 

The  moment  we  gained  the  front  streef  I  looked  all 
around,  from  a  natural  dread  of  detection.  Neither 
moon  nor  stars  were  shining,  and  the  atmosphere  was 
intense]/  black  and  impervious.  But  for  the  half 
white  snow  that  covered  the  ground,  no  object,  unless 
within  a  few  feet  of  us,  would  have  been  distin 
guishable.  As  it  was,  but  little  could  be  seen  upon 
the  opposite  side  of  the  street. 

A  short  distance  above  the  church,  and  close  up  to 

the  curb-stone  on  the  other    side  of  the  highway, 
9* 


226  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

stood  a  long,  covered  car,  such  as  was  generally  used 
for  carting  furniture  in  wet  weather.  In  this  we  de 
posited  our  burden,  and  all  without  awaking  the 
slightest  echo  of  our  doings.  And  all  the  while  the 
priest  stood  peeping  out  from  behind  the  door;  our 
position  north  of  the  church,  where  the  view  from 
the  house  to  the  front  street  was  unobstructed,  afford 
ing  him  every  chance  to  note  our  operations. 

The  coffin  once  in  the  wagon,  Patrick  and  myself 
jumped  up  in  front,  and  the  former  seizing  the  reins, 
drove  off,  but  at  such  a  slow  pace,  that  themotion  was 
actually  painful.  Still  it  was  necessary,  for  the  least 
noise  would  probably  have  betrayed  us,  and  created 
the  very  evidence  that  would  have  sent  us  all  to  the 
State-Prison,  if  nothing  worse.  To  have  detected  us 
at  that  moment,  would  have  afforded  proof  positive ; 
and  I  myself  felt  anxious  to  get  away  in  safety,  for 
many  reasons. 

In  a  little  while  the  tall  spire  of  the  old  church 
was  hid  from  view;  and  we  dashed  on  at  a  more  ra 
pid  rate.  As  our  speed  increased,  it  became  neces 
sary  that  I  should  seat  myself  upon  the  coffin  to  pre 
vent  it  from  bouncing,  as  otherwise  it  would  have 
done.  My  singular  position— sitting  as  I  was  directly 
over  the  beating  heart  of  Madelon — set  me  thinking 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  227 

— and  thinking  led  to  reproaches — and  reproaches  to 
remorse.  I  bowed  my  head  upon  my  knees  and 
looked  back  into  the  past.  Fearfully  real  there  arose 
before  me  the  spirit  of  the  murdered  Frank  Sinclair 
— murdered  for  what?  I  began  to  ask  myself,  and 
could  only  answer,  to  gratify  a  bad  man's  hate.  And 
then  with  painful  distinctness  my  mind  passed  from 
one  scene  to  the  other  of  the  changing  drama  in 
which  I  had  been  playing  such  a  base  and  deceitful 
part.  I  began  to  see  it  as  such — began  to  realize  the 
degradation  to  which  I  had  so  long  submitted.  But 
still  I  knew  not  what  to  do,  and  so  went  on,  all  the 
while  hoping  that  something  might  turn  up  that 
would  change  the  face  of  affairs,  and  safely  release 
me  from  my  slavery.  I  felt  too,  that  I  was  mistrust 
ed,  and  that  Patrick  was  but  a  spy  upon  my  actions ; 
and  knowing  his  brutality  and  ignorance,  I  stood  in 
fear  of  him. 

In  due  time  we  arrived  at  the  office,  in  the  north 
ern  suburbs  of  the  city ;  and  having  arranged  all  the 
preliminaries  started  upon  our  journey,  without  the 
least  indication  of  anything  being  wrong. 

IJpon  our  arrival  we  proceeded  to  place  the  coffin 
in  such  a  position  as  the  circumstances  required. 
That  accomplished,  Patrick  mounted  his  vehicle  and 


228  Madelon  Hawley,  01 

drove  rapidly  away.  In  a  little  while — how  long,  ex 
actly,  I  cannot  say — he  returned  afoot  and  running. 
He  had  left  the  team,  he  said,  with  a  man  who  was 
in  his  employment,  and  who  he  had  directed  to 
await  his  coming  at  a  certain  point. 

Just  as  the  stage  was  about  leaving,  curiosity  or 
some  other  controlling  feeling,  induced  me  to  raise 
the  window  and  look  out  into  the  darkness.  A  tall 
man  in  a  long,  black  cloak,  and  slouched  cap,  who 
was  standing  near  the  spot,  instantly  attracted  my  at 
tention.  A  cold  chill  crept  over  me,  for  I  at  once 
fancied  him  a  police  spy.  Directly  the  man  slightly 
dropped  the  cloak  from  his  face,  and  revealed  a  pair 
of  intensely  black  eyes.  It  was  the  priest,  and  he 
had  come  to  see  us  off.  He  knew  that  I  recognized 
him.  and  placing  one  finger  upon  his  lips,  he  remain 
ed  in  that  position  until  we  dashed  away 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  for  me  to  relate  every  par 
ticular  of  our  journey;  it  is  sufficient  to  state  that 
the  programme  furnished  by  the  priest  was  success 
fully  carried  out;  and  the  strange  triumverate,  the 
tool,  the  murderer,  and  the  drugged  woman,  arrived 
safely  in  Montreal. 

That  was  not  the  day  of  telegraphs,  and  other  quick 
inventions,  or  we  might  have  had  more  impediments 


The  Jesuit  and  his   Victim.          229 

to  encounter.  It  is  true  that  Madelon  gave  us. some 
trouble,  when  the  effects  of  the  drugs  would  partially 
pass  off,  as  it  did  on  several  occasions;  but  notwith 
standing,  and  all  things  considered,  our  flight  was  ac 
complished  much  more  easily  than  I  had  anticipated. 
Her  conscious  spells,  however,  were  well-timed ;  gene 
rally  occurring  at  or  about  those  occasions  when 
we  were  compelled  to  stop.  An  application  of  the 
drug,  which  under  the  circumstances  I  was  always 
enabled  to  make,  would  soon  quiet  the  poor  girl's  low, 
deep  moans.  Once,  indeed,  she  stirred  in  the  coffin, 
and  so  perceptibly  as  to  attract  the  attention  of  a 
passenger;  but  casting  the  blame  upon  Patrick, 
who  I  accused  of  letting  the  coffin  slip,  we  escaped 
a  probable  exposure;  the  stranger,  doubtless,  credit 
ing  the  explanation  which  I  meant  to  convey  in  my 
address  to  my  companion. 


230  Madelon  Hawley,  or 


CHAPTEK     XII. 

As  I  stated,  we  arrived  safely  in  the  city  of  Mon 
treal. 

Without  a  moment's  delay  I  started  off  in  search  of 
one  Father  Kewlinn,  to  whom  I  bore  a  letter  of  intro 
duction  or  instruction.  I  found  him,  according  to  my 
directions,  at  the  priest's  Seminary ;  an  institution 
attached  to  the  Hotel  Dieu,  or  Black  Nunnery.  My 
letter  was  speedily  examined ;  and  then  Father  Kew 
linn  and  myself  hastened  back  after  our  charge. 

After  placing  the  coffin  in  a  vehicle,  which  Father 
Kewlinn  quickly  summoned,  we  all  three  started  on, 
the  priest  leading  the  way.  In  a  short  time  we  arrived 
at  the  Seminary,  the  vehicle  with  the  coffin  coming 
up  a  moment  or  two  after.  Father  Kewlinn  then 
signified  to  Patrick  that  his  labors  were  about  at  an 
end— so  ran  the  instructions  contained  in  the  letter, 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  231 

he  said.  In  regard  to  myself,  he  but  repeated  the  di 
rections  which  I  had  already  received  from  Father 
Huestace. 

"  And  now  take  up  your  charge  and  convey  it  with 
in,"  he  .said,  pointing  from  the  coffin,  which  yet 
remained  in  the  vehicle,  to  the  small,  but  heavy  door 
of  the  Seminary. 

"  Why  not  directly  to  the  Nunnery  ? "  I  inquired, 
pointing  my  ringer  towards  that  building;  a  huge 
structure  of  masonry,  which  stood  some  few  hundred 
feet  distant  in  an  opposite  direction.  I  felt  anxious 
for  Madelon,  and  thought  that  of  the  two  evils  the 
Nunnery  was  the  least.  I  liked  not  the  hard  and  dark 
face  of  Father  Kewlinn  ;  besides,  I  knew  the  vile  cha 
racter  of  many  of  these  Seminaries — knew  that  earth 
held  not  more  lawless  men  than  were  there  congre 
gated  ;  and  I  feared  that  the  poor  girl  might  be  called 
upon  to  suffer  still  further  indignities.  Her  beauty 
would  but  endanger  her  the  more — not  protect  or 
save  her. 

"  For  many  reasons,"  Father  Kewlinn  replied,  stern 
ly  ;  as  if  he  was  not  used  to,  and  did  like  to  be,  ques 
tioned.  "  This,  if  nothing  more.  The  Lady  Abbess  is 
not  yet  apprised  of  your  coming,  or  of  what  is  required 
at  her  hands.  This  I  am  requested  to  inform  her  of; 


232  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

in  the  mean  time  taking  the  girl  under  my  especial 
care.  This  letter  is  explicit  in  all  its  details.  Besides, 
there  are  other  reasons,  which  I  do  not  think  that  it 
is  necessary  for  me  to  explain  to  any  one.  Father 
Huestace  and  myself  fully  understand  each  other, 
and  are  well  aware  as  to  what  is  our  duty.  And  now 
get  the  coffin  within,  for  the  day  wanes  and  the  air 
grows  colder." 

I  offered  no  further  resistance  to  Father  Kewlinn's 
commands,  feeling  that  it  would  he  useless ;  but  di 
rected  Patrick  and  the  cartman,  who  had  been  stand 
ing  apart  during  our  conversation,  to  assist  me  in 
carrying  the  coffin  into  the  building.  Inside  the 
door  the  cartman  was  discharged,  and  Father  Kewlinn 
himself  supplied  his  place. 

After  proceeding  some  distance  up  a  broad  winding 
staircase,  we  entered  a  long,  gloomy  hall,  which  finally 
turned  off  to  the  right  and  terminated  in  another 
shorter  flight  of  stairs.  At  the  head  of  the  stairs  we 
halted ;  and  the  priest,  taking  a  key  from  his 
pocket,  unlocked  the  only  door  that  was  to  be  seen. 

The  room  we  entered  was  a  small,  gloomy,  prison- 
looking  place  ;  doubtless  in  the  centre  of  the  building, 
and  unquestionably  next  the  roof,  for  all  the  light  it 
received  was  from  a  small  window  in  the  ceiling.  It 


The  Jesuit  and  Ms  Victim.          233 

looked  like  just  what  it  was,  a  place  of  solitary  pen 
ance.  The  floor  was  uncarpeted,  and  the  walls  bare' 
and  damp.  At  the  upper  end  of  the  apartment, 
against  the  wall,  was  a  small  pine  bench ;  and  in  one 
corner  was  scattered  some  loose  straw,  which,  with  a 
small  stand"  supporting  a  rude,  wooden  crucifix,  com 
pleted  the  arrangements  of  the  cell-like  room. 

Directly  after  our  entrance  we  set  the  coffin  down 
upon  the  floor,  and  at  the  priest's  direction  I  pro 
ceeded  to  unscrew  the  lid.  That  completed,  I  raised 
my  face  to  Father  Kewlinn  in  mute  inquiry,  and 
awaited  his  directions.  As  I  looked  up  I  observed 
that  Patrick  had  quitted  the  room  whilst  I  had  been 
engaged  upon  the  coffin  with  my  back  turned  to 
wards  him.  However,  I  took  no  outward  notice  of  the 
circumstance,  as  it  was  but  what  I  could  only  reason 
ably  expect;  and  though  I  was  now  left  alone,  I  felt 
a  relief  at  his  absence.  It  was  the  last  I  ever  saw  of 
him,  though  not  the  last  I  heard  of  him.  The  mea 
sure  of  his  crimes  was  not  yet  full. 

At  a  sign  from  Father  Kewlinn  I  removed  the  lid 
entirely  from  the  coffin,  and  exposed  the  pale  face  of 
Madelon  to  his  view.  It  u-as  pale,  and  thin,  too;  but 
still  indescribably  lovely,  even  in  its  paleness  and 
thinness.  Father  Huestace's  powerful  drugs,  how- 


234  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

ever,  were  fast  destroying  the  girl,  mentally  and 
physically. 

The  priest  looked  on  with  cold  indifference,  even 
as  the  vision  of  Madelon's  fair  and  innocent  face 
flashed  before  his  eyes.  He  had  no  heart  for  pity,  or 
sympathy,  or  kindness.  Long  before  it  was  steeled 
against  every  human  emotion.  I  looked  pityingly, 
I  know ;  for  in  that  moment,  more  than  ever,  I  realiz 
ed  all  that  the  maiden  had  suffered,  and  compassion 
ated  her  misery. 

A  slight  tremor  agitated  the  frame  of  Madelon,  and 
arrested  our  attention.  It  was  like  the  shudder  one 
experiences  when  viewing  some  abhorrent  spectacle. 
In  her  it  indicated  a  passing  away  of  the  effects  of 
the  drugs,  and  a  returning  to  consciousness. 

"  She  revives,"  whispered  Father  Kewlinn,  looking 
into  my  face,  indifferently. 

I  replied  not,  but  beckoned  him  to  stand  aside ; 
thinking  it  best  that  Madelon  should  not  see  us — 
particularly  him — when  she  first  unclosed  her  eyes. 
He  complied  with  my  mute  request,  and  together  we 
took  up  a  position  at  the  head  of  the  coffin,  and  of 
course  in  the  rear  of  the  young  girl. 

The  tremor  having  passed  away,  Madelon  began  to 
twist,  and  stretch,  and  turn,  like  one  awaking  from  a 


The  Jesuit  and  Jiis  Victim.  235 

sound  sleep.  Occasionally  she  would  moan  in  the 
most  heart-rending  manner.  At  length,  and  evident 
ly  with  a  very  painful  effort,  she  raised  her  hands  up, 
and  commenced  rubbing  her  face.  This  continued 
for  some  time,  when  she  slowly  opened  her  eyes,  and 
finally,  after  several  ineffectual  attempts,  sat  upright 
in  the  coffin. 

"  0,  my  head,  my  head,  my  poor  head,"  she  mur 
mured,  in  tones  of  utter  despair,  while  she  continued 
to  rub  her  forehead  and  temples. 

How  I  pitied  her!  how  my  heart  ached  for  that 
poor  victim  of  priestly  passions,  and  religious  hypo 
crisy  ! 

"Where  am  I?  What  does  it  all  mean?"  she  con 
tinued,  becoming  vehement  in  her  language  and  ges 
ticulation.  "This  strange  and  gloomy  place— this 
coffin — these  grave  clothes,  and  this  feeling  of  death, 
which  paralyzes  all  my  faculties!  0,  my  God,  what 
has  become  of  me?  Frank,  dear  Frank" — here  she 
paused  for  a  moment,  and  appeared  to  be  thinking ; — 
"Frank!  I  have  no  Frank  now.  I  begin  to  remem 
ber  all— the  horrid  dream  was  all  true— too  true ;  and 
that  bad  man's  words  were  reality.  0,  how  the  re 
collection  of  that  night  crowds  upon  me— how  the 
memory  of  what  that  wicked  man  said  rises  up  in 


236  Maddon  Hawley,  or 

my  mind;  'lie  is  dead — under  the  ice — gone  for  ever!' — 
Frank,  my  Frank,  sleeping  in  the  cold  waters  of  the 
Delaware;  and  I?  where  am  I?  where  am  I?  0  God, 
why  did  I  not  die?  why  did  I  live  to  be  so  wronged, 
so  persecuted?  Why  was  not  I  too,  cast  into  the  river? 
then  would  my  sufferings  have  been  at  an  end,  and 
my  spirit  resting  in  the  bosom  of  its  Maker." 

Here  Madelon's  feelings  had  become  so  intensified 
that  she  grew  dizzy,  and  at  length  fell  away  into  un 
consciousness. 

"She  is  insensible,"  said  Father  Kewlinn,  without 
at  all  noticing  the  mystery  of  her  words. 

He  did  not  care,  very  likely,  if  murder  had  been 
done— if  more  was  to  be  done,  so  long  as  it  was  com 
mitted  in  the  name  of  the  Church  and  religion.  Un 
der  such  circumstances  it  was  not  murder — for  the 
Church,  secretly,  at  least,  justified  the  killing  of  a 
heretic. 

"Help  me  raise  her  from  the  coffin,  and  convey  her 
to  yonder  pallet  of  straw,"  he  continued,  turning  to 
me.  "She  will  soon  revive  again." 

"You  will  not  leave  her  here?"  I  inquired,  with  as 
tonishment. 

Father  Kewlinn  straightened  himself  up,  and  look-  .. 
ed  ine  full  and  sternly  in  the  face. 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  237 

"Here  it  is  for  me  to  command,  and  you  to  obey!" 
he  said,  angrily.  "Remember  that;  and  while  you  ar,e 
here,  never  question  my  orders  again.  You  are  a 
priest,  and  should  know  your  duty  to  the  Church,  and 
to  your  Superiors,  better.  Leave  her  here!"  he  con 
tinued,  bitterly — "and  why  not?  Is  she  not  an  apos 
tate,  and  should  she  not  therefore  be  punished? 
Leave  her  where  I  direct!  that  is  my  answer.  Now 
take  hold  and  assist  me." 

My  blood  was  so  stirred  with  indignation  and  anger, 
that,  desperate  as  would  have  been  the  attempt,  I  felt 
almost  like  openly  resisting  the  commanding  priest. 
My  hands  so  shook  with  the  intensity  of  my  emotion, 
that  it  was  some  time  before  I  could  use  them.  For 
myself,  I  had  ceased  to  be  a  priest — ceased  to  be  a 
Catholic.  I  was  only  a  man,  and  one  who  had  done 
much  wrong  under  a  false  impression.  I  had  mistook 
bigotry  and  superstition  for  religion — but  the  vail 
had  fallen  from  my  eyes.  I  began  now  to  think  of 
saving  myself  and  Madelon,  if  it  were  possible. 

Several  minutes  elapsed  before  I  took  hold  of  Ma 
delon-  and  still  she  continued  in  a  stupor.  At  length 
we  bore  her  across  the  room  and  laid  her  upon  the 
loose  straw;  and  then  the  priest  directed  me  to  take 
up  the  coffin  and  precede  him  out  of  the  room.  By 


238  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

this  time  night  was  approaching,  and  the  shadows 
began  to  deepen  in  the  apartment.  It  seemed  horrid 
to  me,  to  leave  Madelon  alone  there,  and  in  such  a 
condition.  I  could  not  help  loitering  and  demurring; 
but  the  priest,  with  an  impatient  stamp,  pointed  me 
to  the  door.  Smothering  the  malediction  that  quiv 
ered  upon  my  trembling  lips,  I  took  up  the  coffin, 
cast  a  lingering  look  at  poor  Madelon,  and  quitted 
the  apartment;  the  unfeeling  priest  following  close 
at  my  heels.  Once  outside  the  door,  he  led  the  way 
into  the  lower  part  of  the  Seminary,  remarking  as  he 
did  so — why,  however,  I  could  not  guess — that  he 
would  see  that  the  young  lady  was  properly  cared 
for. 

Having  deposited  the  coffin  according  to  direction, 
and  devoured  the  niggardly  meal  that  was  set  be 
fore  me,  I  was  promptly  conducted,  by  Father  Kew- 
linn  himself,  to  the  apartment  that  had  been  alot- 
ted  me,  and  which  was  upon  the  landing,  immediately 
beneath  the  one  occupied  by  Madelon.  It  was  a 
small,  cheerless,  half-furnished  room,  but  a  trifle  bet 
ter  than  the  one  in  which  Madelon  herself  was  con 
fined  ;  and  as  I  cast  myself,  even  as  I  was,  upon  the 
poor  apology  of  a  feed,  I  felt  like  one  forsaken  of  God 
and  man.  Wearied,  and  worn,  and  sick  at  heart,  the 


The  Jesuit  and  Ms   Victim.  239 

only  portion  of  my  dress  that  I  stopped  to  remove, 
was  my  boots. 

Deep  darkness  had  long  enshrouded  everything 
before  I  fell  asleep.  My  body,  it  is  true,  was  weary 
— 0,  how  weary !  but  my  restless  soul  would  not  per 
mit  me  to  slumber.  Thought  had  become  a  dreadful 
thing  to  me;  and  yet  I  could  not  shun  it;  for  memo 
ry,  unescapable  memory,  would  not  be  quieted.  And 
with  the  recollection  of  the  past  came  thoughts  of 
the  future,  which  agitated  me  almost  beyond  endur 
ance.  I  felt  too,  that  although  I  was  not  exactly  a 
prisoner,  I  was  carefully  watched — knew  in  my  own 
heart,  that  Father  Huestace  had  communicated  to 
Father  Kewlinn  the  suspicions  which  he,  doubtless, 
entertained  of  me. 

At  length,  however,  I  fell  asleep;  and  my  last 
thought  was  a  prayer  for  Madelon,  and  an  earnest 
hope  for  our  escape.  I  realized  then  that  I  owed  her 
much — much  in  the  shape  of  atonement.  Could  I 
repay  her?  I  thought. 


240  Madelon  Hawley,  or 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

Some  time  towards  morning  I  was  awoke  by  a  noise 
in  Madelon's  room.  It  was  slight,  but  at  that  time  my 
senses  were  painfully  acute.  I  started  straight  up  in 
bed  and  listened.  A  repetition  of  the  noise  brought 
me  quickly,  but  silently,  to  the  door  of  my  apartment. 
I  opened  it  the  slightest  crack  possible,  and  concen 
trated  all  my  energies  in  the  sense  of  hearing.  Di 
rectly  I  detected  smothered  voices.  Some  one  was 
surely  in  her  room.  I  could  scarcely  restrain  myself, 
although  my  sober  judgment  counselled  me  to  remain 
quiet.  My  heart  beat  quick,  and  my  breath  came 
thick  and  fast.  There  was  a  struggling — I  could  hear 
the  shuffling  of  feet  distinctly.  In  the  midst  of  it  a 
woman — and  it  could  only  be  Madelon — exclaimed  in 
tones  of  terror ; — 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  241 

"They  killed  him! — will  you  now  murder  me,  and 
in  this  brutal  manner?" 

"Be  quiet,  girl,  we  don't  intend  to  harm  you!" 
hissed  forth  another,  and  that  other  I  knew  to  be 
Father  Kewlinn. 

"  Why  do  you  come  here,  then  ?  Is  my  room — poor 
as  it  is — common  property  ?  or  are  priests  and  monks 
— for  such  I  see  you  are — without  the  pale  of  common 
decency  or  humanity?  I  have  been  half  murdered 
already;,  could  I  not  be  left  to  die  in  peace?"  Made- 
Ion  exclaimed,  indignantly.  "  Shame,  shame,  upon 
you,  cowards  that  you  are,  thus  to  hamper  a  weak 
woman.  Away  with  you,  or  I  will  shriek  aloud  with 
all  the  strength  that  is  left  me!" 

Site  had  recovered,  and  even  seemed  strong,  for  her 
words  were  bravely  spoken,  but  uselessly.  She  knew 
not  where  she  was,  or  that  there  little  help  could 
reach  her. 

Again  there  was  a  scuffling;  and  then  I  heard 
Father  Kewlinn  bid  his  companions,  whoever  they 
were,  bind  Madelon's  mouth.  The  prayer  for  mercy, 
that  quivered  upon  her  lips,  was  smothered  by  the 
coarse  hand  of  a  religious  ruffian. 

In  a  moment  or  two  I  heard  the  door  open  slowly, 

and  then  the  silent,  measured  tread  of  slippered  feet 
11 


242  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

upon  the  stairs.  Directly  the  persons  entered  the  hall, 
and  a  moment  after  turned  the  curve,  and  appeared 
in  full  view.  Almost  at  a  glance,  I  took  in  the  posi 
tion  of  the  parties.  Two  stern  looking  monks — Capu 
chins — held  Madelon — one  by  the  head,  and  the  other 
by  the  feet — while  Father  Kewlinn  led  the  way, 
carrying  a  dark  lantern,  the  light  of  which  he  threw 
directly  in  front  of  him.  Madelon's  hands  and  feet 
were  pinioned,  and  her  mouth  bandaged.  Where 
were  they  taking  her?  and  what  were  their  intentions? 
I  asked  myself,  but  could  not  conjecture 

As  they  approached  the  door  of  my  room,  which 
they  had  to  .pass,  I  silently  closed  it,  and  threw  myself 
upon  the  bed.  It  was  fortunate  that  I  did  so,  for  there 
the  party,  at  a  sign  from  the  priest,  came  to  a  halt. 
My  wonder  at  this  proceeding  was  soon  changed  to 
anxiety,  when  I  saw  the  door  of  my  apartment  silent 
ly  open,  and  Father  Kewlinn  enter  the  room.  He  im 
mediately  drew  near  to  the  bed,  and  threw  the 
strongest  light  of  the  lantern  full  in  my  face.  I 
guessed  his  object,  and  defeated  it  by  remaining  per 
fectly  quiescent. 

"He  sleeps!"   he  muttered.     "That  is  well.     He 
will  never  know  what  became  of  the  girl — whether 


The   Jesuit  and  Ms  Victim.          243 

she  be  dead  or  living — here  or  elsewhere ;  and  that 
is  what  Brother  Huestace  desired." 

As  quietly  as  he  had  entered,  he  quitted  my  apart 
ment  ;  and  in  a  moment  after,  the  slight  pit-a-pat  of 
slippered  feet  again  fell  upon  my  ear.  Quickly  I 
was  at  the  door  gazing  after  them. 

"  Not  know  where  she  is  ?  We  shall  see !  We  shall 
see!"  I  whispered  to  myself,  yet  scarcely  knowing 
what  I  meant. 

As  noiselessly  as  a  cat,  I  emerged  from  my  room, 
and  crept  down  the  hall  after  the  priest  and  his  ass 
sociates. 

The  position  in  which  Father  Kewlinn  carried  the 
lantern  favored  me  greatly,  the  light  being  all  in 
front,  while  in  the  rear  it  was  almost  impenetrably  dark. 

The  party  being  thus  exposed  to  me,  I  carefully 
watched  all  their  actions.  I  soon  observed  that  Ma- 
delon  occasionally  struggled,  but  confined  and  sur 
rounded  as  she  was,  it  was  folly  to  resist. 

On,  and  on,  they  went ;  and  down,  and  down,  they 
went,  into  the  cold,  damp,  mucky  vault,  beneath  the 
building.  By  this  time  I  had  crept  up  closer  to  the 
party,  and  entered  the  cellar  only  a  little  way  behind 
them,  the  door,  fortunately,  opening  and  closing  with- 
out  so  much  as  a  creak. 


244  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

The  vault  was  large,  occupying,  as  it  did,  about 
three-fourths  of  the  space  upon  which  the  building 
stood.  Father  Kewlinn,  and  the  monks  bearing  Ma 
delon.  proceeded  directly  towards  the  upper  end  of 
the  cellar. 

"Are  they  going  to  murder  her  in  this  horrid 
place?"  I  asked  myself. 

The  thought  had  barely  flashed  through  my  mind, 
when  Father  Kewlinn  halted  in  front  of  an  iron  door, 
which  was  deeply  imbedded  in  the  thick  walls  of  the 
cellar.  Removing  what  seemed  to  be,  and  really  was, 
a  heavy  key,  from  his  bosom,  he  unlocked  the  stout 
door,  and  carefully  threw  it  open.  A  cold  blast  of 
wind  swept  past  me,  and  made  me  shudder.  The 
whole  party  then  passed  through  the  door,  and  went 
on  without  closing  it,  the  priest  apparently  not  giving 
the  circumstance  a  single  thought.  With  an  exclama 
tion  of  joy,  I  followed  on.  I  immediately  found  my 
self  in  what  appeared  to  be  a  tunnel,  but  whither  it 
lead,  or  what  was  its  use,  I  could  not  at  that  moment 
imagine.  It  was  barely  high  enough  to  permit  of  a 
good-sized  man  standing  erect ;  but  sufficiently  wide 
to  admit  of  three  or  four  persons  walking  abreast. 
The  atmosphere  was  even  damper  than  in  the  vault 
beneath  the  Seminary ;  and  as  I  groped  along  close 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  245 

up  to  the  rough,  stone-wall,  I  experienced  a  sensation 
of  coldness  that  seemed  to  penetrate  even  into  my 
heart. 

In  consequence  of  the  extreme  darkness  which 
surrounded  me — the  priest's  light  but  glimmering  in 
the  distance  like  a  far-off  star  in  a  black  sky — I  oc 
casionally  stumbled  over  objects  in  my  path— what,  I 
knew  not. 

The  noise  thus  created  was  but  slight,  and  yet 
sufficient  to  arrest  the  attention  of  Father  Kewlinn, 
who  would  halt,  and  casting  the  light  of  the  lantern 
behind  him,  peer  into  the  surrounding  darkness.  Once, 
the  object  I  struck  seemed  larger  than  usual,  and  the 
noise  was  consequently  in  proportion.  Father  Kew 
linn  turned  round  suddenly,  and  after  a  momentary 
pause,  during  which  he  addressed  some  words  to  the 
monks,  he  began  to  retrace  his  steps.  As  he  drew 
near  me,  I  backed  off;  and,  at  length,  finding  nothing 
out  of  the  way,  he  returned  to  his  associates.  I  fol 
lowed  on  again.  Directly  my  foot  touched  the  same 
object  it  had  before  encountered,  but  being  more  pre 
pared  this  time,  I  shunned  the  noise.  Unconsciously 
I  bent  down,  and  picked  it  up.  A  single  touch  was 
sufficient  to  inform  me  of  its  character,  and  I  laid  it 
quickly  down  again.  It  was  the  skull  of  a  human 


246  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

being,  and  probably — so  I  began  to  think — not  the 
first  I  had  stumbled  over  during  my  progress  through 
the  tunnel. 

And  still  on,  and  on,  we  went;  and  only  occasional 
ly  the  deep  silence  was  broken  by  some  such  occur 
rence  as  I  have  just  related. 

In  a  little  while  I  again  crept  up  closer  to  Father 
Kewlinn  and  his  party,  every  moment  growing  more 
anxious  as  to  the  result  of  their  strange  conduct.  We 
had  now  been  walking  for  some  time,  and  I  began  to 
think  the  place  interminable. 

Occasionally  Madelon  would  struggle — sometimes 
violently.  Once,  shortly  after  the  incident  which  I 
have  just  related,  she  managed,  how,  has  ever  been  a 
wonder  to  me,  to  remove  the  bandage  from  over  her 
mouth,  sufficiently  to  admit  of  her  venting  a  shriek. 
And  such  a  scream  as  rent  that  dark  place  seldom 
strikes  upon  the  human  ear.  It  was  like  the  deeply 
agonizing  cry  of  a  wretch  tottering  upon  the  brink  of 
a  yawning  precipice  ere  his  last  leap  into  the  boiling 
gulf  beneath.  It  was  fearful,  and  for  a  moment  or 
two  the  party  seemed  paralyzed. 

Directly,  and  of  a  sudden,  I  saw  the  reflection  of 
an  arm  upon  the  spot  of  light  which  surrounded  Fa 
ther  Kewlinn  and  his  companions.  A  quick  thought, 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim  247 

too  monstrous  to  harbor,  flashed  through  my  mind. 
God,  I  thought,  can  it  be  ?  and  then  the  arm  descend 
ed  with  a  quick  motion,  and  the  How — for  such  I  in 
stantly  realized  it  to  be — was  followed  by  a  low,  deep 
moan.  The  heartless  priest  had  stricken  the  poor, 
weak  girl,  full  in  the  face.  She  did  not  trouble  him 
after  that. 

I  could  not  tell  to  what  extent  Madelon  was  injur 
ed,  but  the  brutality  of  the  act  was  almost  without  a 
parallel.  The  savage  Indian  in  all  his  native  fierce 
ness  could  scarcely  have  done  worse. 

At  the  moment  the  scream  occurred,  and  the  cow 
ardly  blow  was  dealt,  a  carriage,  which  was  rattling 
through  the  street  overhead,  stopped.  I  could  hear 
it  plainly,  as  the  occupants  had,  doubtless,  heard  Ma- 
delon's  agonizing  cry.  For  a  few  moments  the  party 
in  the  tunnel  remained  perfectly  quiet,  and,  at  length, 
the  carriage  drove  off,  the  occupants,  very  likely,  en 
tirely  unable  to  account  for  the  mysterious  scream. 

What  my  feelings  were,  when  the  brutal  indignity 
of  a  blow  was  perpetrated  upon  the  person  of  Made- 
Ion,  I  am  unable  to  describe.  What  my  feelings 
were,  too,  when  one  single  moment  of  reflection 
showed  me,  how  vain  and  useless  was  any  interfe 
rence,  at  that  time,  on  my  part,  is  beyond  language  to 


248  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

express.  I  could  have  killed  the  base  and  cowardly 
priest,  and  never  allowed  him  time  to  say,  "  God  for 
give  me."  I  did  start  forward,  but  something  which 
seemed  to  whisper  in  my  heart,  "  not  yet !  not  yet !" 
arrested  my  steps.  The  struggle  was  fierce,  and  great 
beads  of  perspiration  hung  upon  my  brow.  At  length, 
however,  I  curbed  my  feelings,  and  settled  down 
again  into  comparative  quiet. 

As  soon  as  the  carriage  passed  on,  Father  Kewlinn 
moved  and  spoke.  Madelon  was,  of  course,  uncon 
scious,  and  in  her  weak  condition  it  is  only  a  wonder 
that  the  blow  was  not  instant  death  to  her. 

u  I  was  compelled  to  resort  to  such  a  course,"  said 
the  priest,  apologetically ;  but  why  I  could  never  de 
termine,  for  undoubtedly  his  assistants  would  have 
done  just  the  same  thing,  under  the  same  circum 
stances.  "  It  is  already  rumored," — he  continued, — 
"  that  screams  and  singular  noises,  which  seem  to  issue 
from  the  ground,  have  been  heard  in  this  quarter; 
and  such  being  the  case,  it  was  imperiously  necessary 
to  silence  her  voice,  and  quickly ;  and  how  else  could 
I  effectually  accomplish  that  end  ?  Now  replace  the 
bandage  over  her  mouth,  for  fear  that  she  should 
again  revive,  and  let  us  on.  The  air  chills  me." 

The   priest's   command   having  be#h    obeyed,  the 


The  Jesuit  and  Ids  Victim.  249 

party  once  more  started  forward,  and  at  a  more  rapid 
rate.     Their  quaking  hearts  quickened  their  steps. 

In  a  short  time  they  again  halted,  and  I  crept  up 
to  within  a  very  short  distance  of  them.  They  were 
now  standing  before  another  iron  door,  which  likewise 
appeared  to  be,  and  really  was,  imbedded  in  another 
end  wall  of  the  tunnel.  I  now  began  to  suspect 
whither  the  underground  passage  led.  It,  doubtless, 
formed  a  connection  between  the  Seminary  and  the 
Nunnery,  and  enabled  the  occupants  of  the  former, 
the  better  to  carry  on  their  often  unchristianlike  and 
ungodly  practices. 

While  Father  Kewlinn  busied  himself  in  getting 
out  the  key,  and  unlocking  the  heavy  door,  the  atten 
tion  of  the  whole  party  being  concentrated  on  what 
was  before,  and  not  behind  them,  I  drew  myself  up  so 
close,  that  had  they  listened,  they  could  almost  have 
detected  my  breathing. 

In  a  moment  the  door  swung  inward,  and  revealed 
what  was  beyond.  From  my  position  I  could  discern 
things  quite  distinctly.  The  space  beyond  appeared 
to  be  a  large  vault,  similar  to  the  one  under  the  Se 
minary. 

As  Father  Kewlinn  and  his  party  passed  through, 

I  found  myself  in  complete  darkness,  with  the  excep- 
11* 


250  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

tion  of  the  little  gleam  of  light  that  shone  through 
the  door,  and  struck  lengthwise  upon  the  damp  earth- 
floor  beyond.  In  a  moment  the  door  slowly  moved 
on  its  hinges — I  sprang  lightly  forward — too  late — it 
closed  with  a  dull  and  heavy  sound.  I  looked  around 
affrighted — the  darkness  was  intense,  and  almost  over 
powering.  I  again  turned  to  the  door,  thinking  that 
I  might  open  it  and  press  through,  for  I  had  not 
heard  them  lock  it.  My  hand  was  already  upon  the 
heavy  iron  knob,  when  the  bolt  in  the  lock  slowly 
turned  in  the  socket,  and  cut  off  all  my  chances  of 
penetrating  any  further.  They  must  have  returned, 
for  I  feel  confident  that  they  had  passed  on  some 
distance.  Second  thought  had  probably  induced  the 
priest  to  be  more  cautious. 

I  leaned  against  the  cold,  wet  wall,  despairingly;  and 
though  I  well  enough  knew,  that  the  door  at  the  other 
end  of  the  tunnel  was  open,  I  made  no  effort  to  retrace 
my  steps.  So  occupied  was  I,  that  the  thought  did 
not  strike  me.  In  that  moment  the  mystery  of  the 
priest's  conduct  absorbed  my  every  faculty — even  my 
own  possible  danger  was  forgotten.  I  could  not  relin 
quish  the  pursuit  of  Madelon.  Some  irresistible  power 
rivetted  me  to  the  spot.  I  seemed  to  have  but  one  single 
idea,  and  that  was  beyond  my  power  to  direct  or  con- 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  251 

trol.  Was  it  Fate  ?  and  if  not  Fate,  what  else  ? — that 
enchained  my  feet,  and  in  the  fullness  of  one  thought 
obliterated  every  other?  It  almost,  indeed,  seem 
ed  so. 

I  waited,  and  waited,  close  up  to  that  heavy  iron- 
door,  and  yet  I  scarcely  knew  why.  And  thus  passed 
the  moments,  slowly  and  heavily,  for  it  was  a  cold, 
dark,  dreary  vigil. 

Directly,  for  though  the  time  seemed  long  to  me,  it 
could  not  have  really  been  so,  I  was  startled  by  a 
fumbling  at  the  iron-door.  Anon,  the  bolt  began  to 
recede  in  the  lock — then  the  door  commenced  to  open 
slowly,  and  finally  a  stream  of  light  again  gleamed 
into  the  dark  tunnel.  I  sank  down  close  in  the  cor 
ner,  almost  rolling  myself  up  into  a  ball.  An  instant 
after,  and  •  Father  Kewlinn,  together  with  the  two 
monks,  stepped  into  the  passage,  the  former  stopping 
to  close  the  door  and  lock  it.  What  have  they  done 
with  Madelon?  I  asked  myself,  and  shuddered  to 
think  that  my  efforts  to  penetrate  her  new  hiding- 
place  were  fruitless.  That  she  had  been  lodged  in  the 
Nunnery,  I  felt  convinced ;  but  still  I  was  not  certain. 
And  what  her  fate  would  be  there,  was  equally  a  mat 
ter  of  conjecture.  I  trembled  to  think  that  I  could 
not  assist  her,  as  I  had  resolved  to  do.  All  that  I  had 


252  Mac] don  Hawley,  or 

obtained,  was  a  knowledge  of  Madelon's  removal 
from  the  Seminary.  She  might  be  confined  in  the 
Nunnery,  or  she  might  be  taken  far  away  out  of  the 
city,  for  all  that  Iwould  know,  as  I  was  then  situated. 
And  even  if  I  had  penetrated  beyond  the  second  iron- 
door,  I  might  have  done  much  more  harm  than  good 
to  both  Madelon  and  myself.  Altogether  I  began  to 
feel  that  I  was  powerless. 

Abreast,  the  three  men,  the  priest  in  the  centre, 
passed  on  towards  the  other  end  of  the  passage.  I  fol 
lowed  them  quickly,  and  with  a  cat-like  step.  Tramp 
— tramp — tramp,  with  a  noiseless  tread,  and  without 
uttering  a  word,  Father  Kewlinn,  and  his  monkish 
satelites  marched  on.  I  wished  that  they  would  speak, 
and  say  something  of  Madelon — but  everything  was 
against  me — they  uttered  not  a  syllable. 

At  length  the  light  from  the  priest's  lantern  struck 
upon  the  door  which  communicated  with  the  vault 
beneath  the  Seminary.  A  few  steps  further,  and  they 
halted  before  it.  I  stopped  too,  and  clung  close  to 
the  wall.  The  door  was  still  open,  and  the  three  men 
quietly  passed  through.  Father  Kewlinn  himself 
stopped  in  the  door-way,  and  placed  the  key  in  the 
lock.  As  he  did  so,  a  horrid  thought  flashed  with 
lightning  swiftness  through  my  mind.  What  if  he 


The  Jesuit  and  his   Victim.  253 

should  lock  it?  And  that  he  would  do  so,  was  but 
to  be  expected.  I  should  then  be  a  prisoner  in  the 
cold,  dark  tunnel.  I  had  not  thought  of  that  before. 
"With  all  my  feelings  fearfully  intensified,  I  watched 
the  motions  of  the  priest.  A  moment  only  elapsed, 
when  he  drew  the  door  to,  and  closed  it.  I  rushed 
forward  wildly,  and  leaned  against  the  iron-barricade, 
listening.  Great  God!  the  lock  turned;  it  struck 
like  death  to  my  heart,  for  I  was  a  prisoner  in  the 
horrid  passage.  I  dare  not  cry  out,  for  to  betray  what 
I  had  done,  would,  most  likely,  be  but  to  call  down  in 
stant  vengeance  upon  my  head.  What  would  become 
of  me?  I  should  die  there — die  of  cold  and  hunger, 
if  I  did  not  soon  get  out. 


254  Madelon  Hawley,  or 


CHAPTER     XIV. 

I  need  not  recapitulate  all  my  agony — all  my  suf 
ferings  while  confined  in  that,  to  me,  dreadful  place. 
It  was  too  intensely  dark  to  walk,  and  yet  I  was  com 
pelled  to  keep  in  motion,  to  prevent  the  cold  air  from 
overpowering  me.  Time  passed  on  painfully  slow, 
and  all  the  while  no  hope,  no  prospect  of  release. 

I  knew  that  in  the  world  above,  at  last  the  light 
of  day  was  shining;  for  I  could  hear  the  vehicles 
passing  and  re-passing  overhead,  and  occasionally 
catch  the  sound  of  a  human  voice — hut  to  me  all  was 
dark,  dark  night.  I  wandered  up  and  down- -groping 
my  way  hither  and  thither — sometimes  moaning  with 
anguish,  and  sometimes  weeping  with  despair.  My 
feet  and  legs  grew  numb  with  cold,  while  my  head 
burned  with  a  violent  fever.  But  that  I  possessed 
a  strong  and  unimpaired  constitution,  I  should  have 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  255 

sunk  down  and  died.  As  it  was,  the  struggle  was 
doubtful. 

As  time  passed  away,  the  gnawings  of  hunger  be 
gan  to  rend  my  bosom,  and  add  to  my  other  sufferings; 
and  my  heart  beat  dreadfully  with  the  overwhelming 
intensity  of  my  feelings.  At  length,  I  felt — though 
I  had  no  means  of  knowing — that  the  day  must  be 
passed,  by  the  great  length  of  time  I  had  been  lock 
ed  up.  And  yet  there  was  no  chance  of  escape — no 
one  visited  the  tunnel. 

I  knew  that  I  had  grown  thin,  and  pale,  and  hag 
gard,  even  in  the  short  time  that  I  had  been  confined 
in  that  dreadful  place ;  and  I  could  feel,  though  I  could 
not  see,  the  alteration  in  my  appearance.  Such  feelings 
as  agitated  my  heart  soon  produce  a  visible  effect. 

You  may  wonder  that  I  was  not  missed  in  the  Se 
minary,  and  searched  for.  Doubtless  I  was.  But  in  the 
tunnel  would  have  been  the  last  place  they  would  have 
thought  of  looking  for  me.  The  reasons  are  obvious. 
I  was  a  stranger  but  just  arrived,  and  consequently 
could  not  be  supposed  to  know  of  its  existence. 

At  length,  after  the  lapse  of  an  almost  unbearable 
space  of  time,  my  heart  leaped  into  my  throat,  for  my 
quick  ear  detected  the  approach  of  some  person  in  the 
vault  under  the  Seminary.  It  sounded  as  joyfully  to 


256  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

me  as  "  pardon''  does  to  the  poor  criminal  in  his  dreary 
dungeon.  And  yet  it  might  not  betoken  safety.  I 
heard  the  key  placed  in  the  lock,  and  I  crouched 
down  again  close  to  the  wall ;  the  bolt  was  slowly 
withdrawn ;  the  door  opened,  and  the  light  of  a  lan 
tern  again  illuminated  that  black  cavern.  One  per 
son  only  appeared  in  the  doorway.  For  a  moment  the 
light  blinded  me ;  but  soon  recovering  my  faculties,  I 
cast  my  eyes  upon  the  intruder.  I  almost  cried  aloud, 
as  I  recognized  the  visitor. 

"He  here,  and  so  soon!"  I  thought,  as  my  straining 
eyes  fell  upon  the  dark  and  furrowed  countenance  of 
Father  Huestace.  "The  end  then  is  come" — so  ran 
my  reflections — "  and  I  was  not  held  a  captive  here 
for  nothing.-  Deep,  dark,  inscrutable  destiny  is  at 
work." 

Father  Huestace  did  not  stop  tolocK  the  great  door, 
but  only  closing  it,  passed  on.  His  mind  appeared  to 
be  absorbed,  and  the  abstraction  of  his  manner  led  me 
to  hope  that  he  would  pursue  the  same  course  with 
the  other  door ;  as  I  felt  confident  that  it  was  his  in 
tention  to  visit  Madelon,  wherever  she  was;  and  I 
had  determined  upon  following  him,  let  the  issue  be 
what  it  might. 

On  we  went,  with  but  the  space  of  a  dozen  yards 


The  Jesuit  and  Ms  Victim.  25 Y 

between  us.  Little  did  the  plotting  and  unscrupu 
lous  priest  imagine  who  was  dogging  his  steps.  As  I 
have  said  before,  I  was  an  altered  person  then ;  and 
though  not  yet  what  I  should  be,  a  wise  God  had 
made  apparent  to  my  mind  the  errors  of  my  creed. 
I  hated  priests  — hated  Romanism — almost  hated  my 
self  for  the  life  I  had  mis-spent — trebly  hated  Fa 
ther  Huestace  for  the  great  influence  which  he  had 
hitherto  exercised  over  me  to  my  degradation. 

The  Jesuit  was  arrayed  in  the  garments  generally 
in  vogue,  with  the  exception  of  the  dressing  of  the 
feet,  which  consisted  of  a  description  of  thick,  but 
pliant  moccasin.  His  head  was  ornamented  with  a 
tight  fitting  black  velvet  cap — an  article  in  common 
use  among  the  Catholic  clergy.  In  personal  appear 
ance  he  was  the  same  as  when  I  last  saw  him;  and 
judging  from  his  wrinkled  brow  and  compressed  lips, 
his  feelings  still  maintained  about  the  same  balance. 

Ai  length,  he  drew  near  to  the  other  end  of  the 
tunnel,  and  finally  the  reflections  of  the  light  struck 
upon  the  iron  pivots  in  the  cumbrous  door.  Hither 
to  Father  Huestace  had  pursued  his  way  -with  his 
head  bowed  down,  as  if  in  deep  meditation ;  now  he 
raised  his  face,  and  looked  anxiously  around.  A  few 
steps  more  brought  him  in  direct  contact  with  the 


258  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

barrier.  Placing  the  lantern  upon  the  ground,  he  re 
moved  the  key  from  his  bosom,  and  unlocked  the 
door.  Again  my  eyes  penetrated  the  great  vault  be 
yond.  Father  Huestace  then  took  up  the  lantern,  and 
passed  through  the  aperture.  I  reached  the  door  just 
in  time  to  see  it  close.  Again  I  was  surrounded  with 
intense  darkness;  but  I  thought  not  of  that — another 
feeling  filled  my  heart;  would  he  lock  the  door?  I 
felt  that  if  he  did,  I  should  shriek  aloud  with  the 
mad  agony  of  my  emotions.  I  bent  my  head  down 
and  listened.  Hist!  a  step — light  as  a  feather — but 
still  a  step.  Thank  God,  he  passes  on  without  lock 
ing  it!  was  my  inward  congratulation.  I  drew  along, 
long  breath,  and  then  seized  the  heavy  knob  of  the 
door.  Slowly  I  turned  it ;  and  by  degrees  pushed  it 
back  the  distance  of  a  foot  probably.  It  was  a  criti 
cal  moment  for  me,  but  I  did  not  shake  or  falter. 
Pushing  my  body  through  I  entered  the  vault,  and 
then  silently  closed  the  door.  It  was  a  miracle  how 
I  ever  accomplished  the  feat,  without  attracting  the 
priest's  attention.  But  the  dark  shadow  of  destiny 
rolled  up  between  the  Jesuit  and  myself. 

As  I  emerged  into  the  cellar,  Father  Huestace  was 
just  in  the  act  of  ascending  a  flight  of  stairs  at  the 
farthest  extremity.  With  a  rapid  but  silent  movement 


The  Jesuit  and  Ms  Victim.  259 

I  drew  near  to  the  spot,  reaching  it  just  in  time  to  see 
him  pass  through  a  trap  and  disappear.  I  ascended 
the  steps  as  quick  as  a  flash,  and  placed  my  ear  to  the 
trap.  The  shutting  of  a  door,  which  was  barely  au 
dible,  advised  me  of  the  priest's  disappearance  from 
the  room,  with  which  the  trap  evidently  communicat 
ed.  I  listened  again — all  was  still  as  the  grave.  Slow 
ly  I  pushed  up  the  trap  and  peeped  into  the  room.  A 
gush  of  warm  air  pleasantly  contrasted  with  the  cold 
atmosphere  of  the  damp  vault.  The  apartment  was 
dark,  and  not  a  sound  disturbed  the  heavy  silence.  A 
gleam  of  light  which  shone  through  a  crack,  inform 
ed  me  of  the  direction  in  which  Father  Huestace  had 
gone.  Dragging  myself  through  the  trap,  I  crawled 
into  the  room  on  my  hands  and  knees.  Following  the 
streak  of  light  I  came  to  a  door,  which  I  softly  open 
ed,  and  emerged  into  a  hall  from  which  a  flight  of 
winding  stairs  led,  as  I  correctly  judged,  into  the  up 
per  portions  of  the  Nunnery ;  for  in  that  building  I 
felt  positive  I  was.  What  I  had  already  seen  con 
firmed  my  previous  suppositions. 

The  Jesuit  was  just  winding  around  the  top  of  the 
first  flight  of  stairs,  for  I  had  gained  upon  him  rapid 
ly.  I  drew  back  until  he  had  passed  the  turn,  and 
then  crept,  with  a  noiseless  tread,  after  him.  I  be- 


260  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

lieve  that  I  could  have  struck  him  down,  and  killed 
him,  at  any  moment,  and  without  a  struggle;  but 
even  then  my  mind  did  not  contemplate  murder — was 
not,  in  fact,  fixed  upon  anything  further  than  to 
watch  the  now  hateful  Jesuit. 

The  second  flight  of  stairs  brought  us — for  I  fol 
lowed  close  behind  Father  Huestace — to  another  long, 
dark  hall.  The  priest  turned  to  the  right  and  pass 
ed  on.  As  yet  we  had  not  encountered  a  living  soul, 
or  heard  the  slightest  noise.  And  yet  I  knew  that 
beneath  that  ponderous  roof  were  many  sleepless 
eyes — many  wakeful  hearts,  throbbing  with  feelings 
of  unutterable  passion,  or  unutterable  agony. 

From  the  manner  in  which  the  Jesuit  proceeded, 
I  concluded  that  his  visit  was  at  once  expected,  and 
arranged  by  some  one  in  the  building — some  one,  too, 
who  had  power.  What  was  his  intention  I  could  but 
guess.  No  good — that  was  as  certain  as  destiny  it 
self. 

On  either  side  of  the  passage  in  which  I  then  found 
myself,  were  a  number  of  doors,  communicating,  as  I 
well  knew,  with  the  Nun's  cells.  At  none  of  these, 
however,  did  Father  Huestace  stop;  but  with  a  rapid 
motion  he  passed  onward.  Directly  he  disappeared. 
On  arriving  at  the  point  at  which  I  had  last  seen  him, 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.          261 

I  found  that  the  passage  abruptly  turned  off  to  the 
left,  and  appeared  to  lead  round  into  another,  and 
less  frequented  portion  of  the  building.  The  Jesuit 
was  just  in  advance  of  me. 

Suddenly  Father  Huestace  stopped,  and  stooping  to 
the  keyhole  of  a  solitary  room,  listened  for  some  mo 
ments  very  attentively.  Then  he  applied  his  eye  to 
the  same  aperture,  and  finally  set  down  the  lantern, 
drew  a  small  key  from  his  pocket,  applied  it  to  the 
lock,  opened  the  door  softly,  and  disappeared  within. 
And  either  from  a  sense  of  security,  or  the  pre-occu- 
pation  of  his  mind  by  other  thoughts,  he  entered  the 
room  without  locking  the  door  after  him. 

In  an  instant  after  his  disappearance,  my  eye  was 
pressed  to  the  keyhole.  The  view  within  was  partly 
obscured,  but  still  I  could  manage  to  distinguish  the 
occupants  of  the  room,  and  mark  their  conduct. 

As  I  suspected,  the  apartment  was  Madelon's  prison 
—for  to  her  it  was  little  else.  My  previous  excite 
ment,  which  had  somewhat  subsided  during  my  chase 
of  the  Jesuit,  now  began  to  creep  over  me  again. 
Once  more  my  blood  boiled— my  temples  throbbed, 
and  my  heart  palpitated  wildly. 

Evidently  the  girl  had  been  asleep,  and  the  light 
put  out.  When  I  applied  my  eye  to  the  keyhole,  Ma- 


262  Maddon  Haivley,  or 

delon,  white  as  a  marble  statue,  and  still  clad  in  the 
solemn  grave-robe,  was  reclining  upon  the  side  of  the 
bed,  with  her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  motions  of  the 
priest,  as  if  fascinated.  Father  Huestace  had  remov 
ed  the  candle  from  the  tin-lantern,  and  was  just  in 
the  act  of  depositing  the  former  upon  a  rough  table 
which  stood  against  the  wall.  This  was  the  position 
of  things. 

It  was  a  picture.  Within  the  shadowy  room  the 
dark,  mendacious  priest,  and  the  pale,  persecuted 
woman ;  without,  crouching  down,  and  peering 
through  the  keyhole,  the  thin  and  haggard  spy. 

Father  Huestace  soon  turned  from  the  table  and 
faced  the  marble  looking  woman.  There  was  in  his 
steady  gaze  a  fearful  combination  of  bad  passions,  in 
explicable  to  all  but  himself.  Hate,  however — and 
such  a  hate,  as  none  but  the  very  fiends  experience — 
predominated.  And  he  had,  doubtless,  come  there  to 
gratify  the  feeling — gratify  it  in  the  worst  form.  Ma- 
delon,  as  she  looked  upon  him,  shook  as  with  a  chill. 
The  basilisk  eyes  of  death  could  not,  for  the  moment, 
have  held  her  more  spell-bound. 

Thus  they  stood  for  a  brief  space. 

"Madelon!"  said  the  Jesuit,  at  length,  in  low  tones. 

No  answer. 


Tlie  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  263 

"Madelon!"  lie  repeated,  in  a  louder  key. 

Still  no  answer. 

And  the  girl  never  removed  her  eyes  from  his  face, 
or  stirred  a  limb. 

"Madelon!"  he  reiterated  again,  and  this  time 
loudly  and  angrily. 

The  girl  started,  and  drew  her  thin,  white  hand 
across  her  eyes,  as  if  just  awaking  from  a  dream. 
There  was  a  moment  of  deep  and  solemn  silence. 

"Who  calls  Madelon?"  she  repeated,  slowly  and 
quietly. 

"  One  who  may  be  her  friend  or  foe,  as  she  wills," 
responded  the  Jesuit,  softly  and  hypocritically 

There  was  another  moment  of  silence,  and  Made- 
Ion's  eyes,  from  wandering  around  the  room,  finally 
settled  upon  the  dark  visage  of  Father  Huestace. 

"You!"  exclaimed  the  girl,  with  almost  a  shriek; 
and  at  the  same  time  she  slid  from  the  bed  and  stood 
erect  upon  the  floor,  the  fore-finger  of  her  left  hand 
pointing  towards  the  priest. 

There  was  a  quivering  of  the  muscles  in  the  face 
of  Father  Huestace,  and  already  his  breast  began  to 
surge  with  rising  passion. 

"Just  like  her  mother!"  he  hissed,  between  his 
clenched  teeth. 


^ 64  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

The  words  seemed  to  concentrate  and  intensify  all 
the  whole  energy,  passion,  despair,  and  grief  of  the 
girl's  nature. 

"  Yes,  vile  priest," — she  cried,  in  tones  of  withering 
scorn — "just  like  my  mother.  Like  that  mother 
whom  you  basely  sought  to  rob  of  life's  best  jewel — 
its  brightest  ornament;  you  see  I  know  you;  like 
that  mother  who  out  of  revenge  you  tormented — but 
not  openly — to  death;  like  that  mother  whose  bless 
ed  spirit  now  hovers  over  her  child,  and  gives  her 
strength  to  brand  you  with  your  myriad  crimes.  I 
know  you  well — well!  The  dark  face  that  frighten 
ed  my  childhood,  has  never  escaped  my  memory.  It 
is  there !  there !"  • 

She  pointed  to  the  priest's  working  countenance. 

"  Mad  girl,  you  know  not  what  you  do !"  he  hissed 
out,  and  his  whole  frame  quivered. 

In  that  moment  the  Jesuit  looked  not  like  a  human 
being.  His  fingers  worked;  his  lips,  lividly  white, 
trembled  violently;  his  eyes  stood  out  like  balls  of 
fire ;  and  the  great  veins  on  his  forehead  looked  like 
dark  chords.  He  was  the  very  personification  of  un 
hallowed  passion.  Madelon,  too,  was  madly  excited; 
while  my  feelings  almost  defied  restraint. 

"Wrong,  wrong!"     continued  the  girl,  with  intense 


The  Jeswit  and  his   Victim.  265 

wildness ;  "  and  yet  I  have  not  you  to  thank  that  I 
do.  Hearken  to  my  words,  base,  ignohle  priest ;  for 
the  true  God  has  given  me  power  to  speak;  me,  a 
weak,  trembling,  sick,  and  dying  girl.  Not  content 
with  murdering  the  mother,  you  have  sought  to  rob 
and  murder  the  child — me,  the  image  of  her,  beneath 
whose  scornful  gaze  your  vile  soul  shrunk  to  nothing 
— me,  who  inherited  the  wealth,  which  enriched  the 
mother,  whom  you  could  not  degrade.  And  not  con 
tent  with  all  this — " 

"Devil!"  shouted  the  priest,  almost  crazed 'by  the 
girl's  reproachful  words ;  "  cease,  or  your  words  will 
yet  provoke  your  death!" 

As  he  spoke  he  raised  his  arm  and  strode  towards 

her. 

» 

"  Approach  me  not,  accursed  man!"  cried  Madelon, 
with  passionate  dignity.  "  Off — oif! — or  the  weight  of 
your  sins  will  strike  you  dead!" 

He  stopped  abruptly.  There  was  something  in  the 
girl's  manner,  more  than  her  words,  that  would  have 
terrified  a  greater  villain  than  even  the  Jesuit. 

"  And  not  content  with  all  this,  I  say," — continued 

Madelon,  undaunted, — "you  murdered  another— one 

whom  I  loved,  and  who  loved  me — one  who  never 

wronged  you — one  whose  mother  never  turned  you 

12 


266  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

forth,  from  beneath  the  roof  your  presence  had  pollut 
ed—one  whose  only  fault  was,  that  he  loved  her 
whose  mother  scorned  your  base  proposals— she,  w.hose 
wealth  tempted  your  cupidity.  0,  Frank,  Frank," — 
and  Madelon  wound  her  white  hands  through  her 
dark  hair — "  I  can  almost  fancy  that  I  see  you  now, 
struggling  in  the  cold  waters — struggling  for  that 
life  which  was  so  dear  to  me ;  and  here,  here  before 
me" — again  she  turned  wildly  upon  the  priest — 
"  stands  the  dark  man  who  murdered  you.  Will  not 
your  pure  spirit  rise  up  to  curse  him,  as  I  do  now?" 

Falling  upon  her  knees,  she  lifted  her  eyes  upward, 
and  stretched  forth  both  her  hands  wildly.  In  that 
moment,  that  pale  woman  looked  supernaturally 
holy. 

"Maledictions  on  your  cursed  tongue!"  cried  Fa 
ther  Huestace,  clenching  his  hand  and  shaking  it  to 
wards  Madelon. 

And  yet  he  seemed  grown  to  the  spot — held  spell 
bound  by  the  whirlwind  of  the  girl's  agony. 

"  0,  God,  the  Father,  hear  me !"  continued  Madelon, 
appealing  to  high  heaven ;  "  let  not  this  bad  man  es 
cape  the  punishment  of  his  sins — let  him  not  live  to 
blast  the  earth  with  more  wrong,  more  murder ;  palsy 
the  hand  that  robs  innocence  of  virtue — put  out  the 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  267 

mind  that  brings  forth  only  that  which  is  sinful  and 
corrupt;  and  still  the  voice  that  breathes  forth  naught 
but  rapine  and  murder.  Earth  is  weary  of  the  mon 
ster,  and  the  spirits  of  his  slain  victims  circle  him 
about,  and  cry  aloud  for  vengeance — vengeance !" 

My  own  feelings  had  by  this  time  become  so  deep 
ly  enlisted,  and  my  emotions  so  powerfully  agitated, 
that  my  limbs  would  scarcely  support  the  weight  of 
my  body. 

Madelon  had  barely  concluded  her  appeal,  when 
the  now  infuriated  priest  sprang  towards  her.  Eter 
nal  Truth  had  pierced  even  his  callous  heart;  but  in 
stead  of  deterring,  it  only  urged  him  on  to  new  scenes 
of  violence. 

"  Be  that  word  the  last  you  shall  shriek  in  my  ear, 
proud,  defiant  woman!"  he  shouted,  terribly. 

There  was  a  blow — a  faint  scream — a  running  of 
blood.  The  priest  had  stricken  the  girl  with  the 
heavy  iron-key  which  opened  the  doors  of  the  tunnel. 

I  looked  on  horrified,  for  my  mind  was  not  prepar 
ed  for  such  a  sight.  For  some  moments  I  could 
scarcely  comprehend  what  had  occurred.  At  length 
the  reality  burst  upon  me. 

With  the  yell  of  a  madman  I  dashed  into  the  room. 
The  Jesuit  turned  and  glared  at  me  affrighted;  and 


268  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

Madelon  fell  quivering  to  the  floor,  her  white  clothes 
dyed  with  the  purple  stream. 

"  Mother — Frank — I  come !"  she  murmured  faintly 
— gasped  for  breath — moaned,  and  died. 

In  that  terrible  moment,  so  fatally  consecrated  to 
blood  and  murder,  that  poor,  persecuted  girl  thought 
only  of  those  whom  she  had  loved,  and  who  had  lov 
ed  her.  Even  as  her  spirit,  pure,  and  holy,  and  unde- 
filed,  tottered  upon  the  brink 

"  Of  that  tremendous  precipice,  whose  depth 
No  thought  of  man  can  fathom," 

her  final  living  thought  lingered  lovingly  around  the 
memory  .of  those  who  in  her  tender  heart  she  recog 
nized  as  nearest  and  dearest. 

There  was  a  deep,  oppressive  pause. 

I  turned  to  the  priest— our  eyes  met,  and  for  an  in 
stant  our  gaze  was  fixed. 

"  Fiend!''  I  shouted,  crazy  with  the  scene ; — "  behold 
another  murder  is  committed — another  victim  is  add 
ed  to  your  long  catalogue.  The  ^  spirits  of  the  many 
murdered  are  waiting  to  drag  you  down  to  hell.  I 
hear  their  voices  in  the  whispering  air.  They  clamor 
for  retribution.  Come — come — come !" 

With  a  bound  I  was  by  the  Jesuit's  side,  and  with 
supernatural  strength  I  seized  him  by  the  throat,  and 


The  Jesuit  and  his   Victim.  269 

bore  him  to  the  floor.  Then  dragging  him  across  the 
room  to  where  the  bloody  Madelou  lay,  I  held  his 
face  down  to  her's,  and  again  hissed  "murderer"  in 
his  ear.  And  all  the  while  my  grasp  upon  his  throat 
tightened.  All  the  accumulating  hatred  of  the  past 
was  concentrated  in  that  grip,^  and  I  experienced  a 
maniacal  joy,  as  I  felt  the  priest's  writhings  and 
twistings,  and  gazed  into  his  fast  bloating  counte 
nance. 

But  he  was  a  strong  man,  was  Father  Huestace; 
and  in  great  despair  he  made  a  terrible  struggle  for 
his  life.  The  madness  of  the  moment  had  made  a 
giant  of  me,  but  the  spring  of  the  priest  took  me  by 
surprise.  For  a  moment  he  escaped  my  grasp,  and 
shrieked  with  all  the  intensity  of  a  lost  soul.  But 
that  cry  was  his  last.  Bounding  upon  him  with  all 
the  ferocity  of  a  madman,  I  again  bore  him  to  the 
floor,  and  twisted  my  fingers  about  his  neck. 

A  shuffling  of  many  feet,  and  an  echoed  exclama 
tion  in  the  room,  attracted  my  attention.  I  looked 
up  from  the  body  of  the  Jesuit.  Around  me  were 
gathered  several  priests  and  monks.  How  it  happen 
ed  that  they  were  so  prompt  on  the  first  alarm,  and 
what  they  were  doing  in  the  Nunnery  at  that  time  of 
night — for  I  now  think  that  it  must  have  been  near 


Madelon  Hawley,  or 


on  to  the  mid-hour  —  I  leave  you  to  conjecture.  My 
brain  was  too  hot  to  think  of  anything  then.  I  saw 
them  there,  and  that  was  all  I  knew.  From  them  I 
turned  again  to  Father  Huestace,  whose  throat  I  still 
grasped.  He  was  quiet  and  immoveable.  In  speech 
less  silence  several  moments  elapsed.  At  length  there 
was  another  bustling  at  the  door,  and  then  Father 
Kewlinn  followed  by  several  priests  hurried  into  the 
room.  And  lastly  the  Lady  Abbess,  with  some  other 
heads  of  the  establishment,  appeared  upon  the  scene. 
I  remembered  it  all  afterwards.  There  was  much 
confusion,  horror  and  dismay.  The  priests  in  the  Se 
minary  had  evidently  been  alarmed  by  some  one  — 
hence  their  sudden  and  abrupt  appearance. 

And  still  I  bent  down  over  Father  Huestace  —  mad 
dened. 

"Blessed  Virgin,  what  a  dreadful  sight!''  exclaim 
ed  a  female  voice,  each  tone  instinct  with  terror. 

"A  double  murder!  horror!"  echoed  another,  and  a 
deeper  voice  —  the  voice  of  a  novice,  probably,  or  he 
would  not  have  been  so  moved. 

"  How  came  he  here  ?"  the  Lady  Abbess  inquired, 
anxiously,  pointing  at  me,  and  appealing  to  Father  Kew- 
lin.  "  In  what  manner  did  he  obtain  access  here  ?  Not 
by  the  usual  way,  that  I  am  certain."  Without  wait- 


The  Jesuit  and  liis  Victim,  271 

ing  for  a  reply,  she  continued,  "  what  a  dreadful  deed, 
and  how  frightful  the  man  looks.  Take  him  away ! — 
take  him  away,  or  he  may  kill  somebody  else." 

"Seize  him!"  cried  Father  Kewlinn,  thus  aroused; 
— "seize  the  renegade  priest!" 

There  was  a  groan  of  horror  passed  from  mouth  to 
mouth.  At  the  same  moment  I  cast  Father  Huestace 
from  me  and  sprang  to  my  feet.  I,  too,  was  aroused. 
The  body  of  the  priest  fell  to  the  floor  like  a  stone. 
He  was  dead. 

I  sprang  forward,  but  was  instantly  surrounded. 
There  was  a  fierce  struggle,  and  I  remember  nothing 
more.  All  was  oblivion  and  darkness. 


272  Madelon  Hawley,  or 


CHAPTER    XV. 

WEEKS  passed  before  I  returned  to  consciousness. 
When  I  did  I  found  that  I  was  in  a  strange  place ; 
but  still  surrounded  by  the  priests,  and  encompassed 
by  the  power  of  the  Romish  Church. 

The  fever  of  my  brain  had  abated,  but  not  so  the 
hate  I  felt  for  priests  and  priestcraft.  Nor  could  I 
avoid  displaying  the  revolution  which  circumstances 
had  wrought  in  my  feelings.  For  that  I  in  turn  was 
hated. 

From  the  moment  of  my  revival  I  was  subjected  to 
a  persecution  of  the  most  fiendish  and  devilish  cha 
racter.  I  was  looked  upon  as  an  apostate — a  renegade; 
and  my  body  was  subjected  to  all  the  tortures  their 
ingenuity  could  invent ;  and  their  cunning  is  never 
at  a  loss.  I  bore  it  as  patiently,  with  as  much  for 
titude,  as  human  flesh  could.  At  length  I  discovered 
where  I  was — which  for  a  long  time  I  knew  not.  My 


The  Jesuit  and  his  Victim.  273 

place  of  confinement  was  a  farm-house  attached  to 
the  Seminary,  but  some  miles  distant.  With  the  dis 
covery  came  a  resolution  to  escajje :  and,  after  much 
pondering,  I  could  see  but  one  way  to  accomplish 
that;  for  I  was  too  closely  guarded  to  admit  of  many 
chances. 

One  dark  night,  having  collected  together  all  the 
combustible  material  I  could  find  in  my  room,  I  fired 
the  building.  In  the  confusion  I  escaped  to  the 
woods  and  concealed  myself.  Weeks  after,  having 
endured  unspeakable  hardships  and  deprivations,  I 
reached  the  Indian  country,  in  the  far,  far  west.  I 
claimed  fellowship  with  the  red  men,  and  was  receiv 
ed  among  them.  They  liked  me,  and  I  was  elected 
their  medicine-man.  From  that  hour  I  sought  ear 
nestly  to  atone  for  the  past.  I  tried  to  do  all  the 
good  that  was  in  my  power.  In  the  grand  old  woods 
I  worshipped  God  untrammelled  by  creed  or  super 
stition — in  the  solitude  of  the  wilderness  I  sought 
forgiveness  for  the  misdeeds  of  'the  past. 

Years  passed  away,  and  a  measure  of  peace,  sweet 
peace,  came  at  last.  With  that  feeling  of  inward 
quiet  there  came  also  a  strange  and  unaccountable 
desire  to  revisit  this  city.  I  could  not  suppress  it; 

and  at  length  I  gratified  the  yearning.     I  had  amass- 
12* 


274 


ed  some  little  money  by  trafficking  in  furs ;  and  so  I 
left  my  friends,  the  Indians,  and  travelled  here ;  but 
the  scenes,  and  the  p.eople,  all  were  changed.  I,  too, 
was  changed ;  for  I  was  old,  and  bent,  and  wrinkled. 
They  who  knew  me  years  before,  knew  me  not  then; 
nor  did  I  wish  it  otherwise.  I  took  up  my  lodgings 
here,  and  from  that  time  I  have  lived  alone  and  almost 
unknown. 

My  old  employer,  Madelon's  aunt,  and  many  others 
who  had  mingled  in  life's  busy  scenes  long  years  be 
fore,  slept  the  silent  sleep  that  knows  no  waking. 
Charles  Hawley  had  grown  gray  during  my  absence  ; 
and  Anna  Sinclair  was  married  and  living  in  the  east. 
These  things  I  learned  by  degrees  from  hearsay. 
Winnie  had  grown  quite  matronly,  was  married  too, 
and  had  a  family  of  interesting  children  around  her. 
Her  husband  was  an  honest,  deserving  mechanic.  I 
was  glad  to  know  that  she  had  not  taken  my  deser 
tion  much  to  heart.  I  have  seen  her  frequently, 
but  she  never  recognizes  in  the  bent  old  man  the 
dashing  and  deceitful  Joseph  of  other  days.  Patrick 
— and  you,  doubtless,  can  remember  the  circumstance, 
for  it  has  not  been  many  years  since,  and  created 
much  excitement  at  the  time — was  convicted  of  the 
murder  of  two  women,  and  afterwards  hung.  The 


The  Jesuit  and  Ms  Victim.          2Y5 

Church  could  not  save  him  then,  and  no  Father  Hues- 
tace  was  at  hand.  As  he  had  lived,  he  perished;  con 
fident  in  the  miraculous  power  of  the  priest,  and  the 
infallibility  of  his  religion. 

Upon  the  breaking  up  of  the  river,  which  was  late 
in  the  season,  the  body  of  Frank  Sinclair — who  had 
long  been  mourned  as  dead — was  found,  and  recog 
nized  by  the  clothing;  but  nothing  was  ever  learned 
of  the  manner  of  his  death.  Patrick  died  without 
revealing  a  word — true  to  one  thing  at  least. 

Madelon's  estate,  after  much  trouble  and  bickering, 
and  after  the  lapse  of  several  years,  was  finally  se 
cured  by  the  agents  of  the  Church. 

All  now  is  told — the  mystery  of  a  plot,  and  the  his 
tory  of  a  foul  wrong  is  bared  to  your  gaze.  My  soul 
is  lighter,  that  the  weight  of  secresy  is  lifted  from  it. 
For  the  wrong  that  I  did  to  Madelon  and  her  friends 
I  have  deeply,  deeply  repented;  for  the  death  of 
Father  Huestace  no  man  would  hold  me  responsible— 
surely  then  not  a  just  God.  Little  more  remains  now 
to  be  told. 

Since  my  return,  but  little  of  importance  has  oc 
curred  to  me— nothing  connected  with  my  narrative ; 
except,  indeed,  that  the  gray  old  church  no  longer  lifts 
its  tall  spire  to  the  clouds;  for  a  mass  of  crumbling 


276  Madelon  Hawley,  or 

ruins  now  marks  the  spot  where  once  it  stood.  It  will 
no  more  sin  against  God  by  harboring  conspirators 
and  murderers,  even  though  they  be  priestly  ones. 

I  am  done.  My  story  is  told,  and  finished  none 
too  soon,  for  death  tugs  impatiently  at  my  heart. 
The  span  of  my  life  is  run;  but  in  this  final  hour  I 
can  only  glorify  the  Divine  Master  for  the  blessed 
privilege  of  repentance.  He  has  allowed  me  years, 
long  years,  to  wash  out  the  stains  of  the  past,  and  pre 
pare  for  that  future  which  is  beyond  the  grave.  Hal 
lowed  be  His  name,  forever  and  ever,  on  earth  and  in 
heaven;  for  He  is  the  true  God— the  only  Lord  and 
Master  of  us  all. 

The  weakness  01  dissolution  prostrates  alike  my 
mind  and  body,  and  the  last  home  of  man  opens  its 
narrow  door  to  admit  me  within.  All  things  grow 
dim  and  vague ;  but  in  the  vapory  mist  I  see  the 
shadows  of  an  angel  band.  They  beckon  me  away — 
away.  I  come!  I  come! 

•A"  ^  *  ^  2f£  $fc  ^P 

The  old  man  had  been  gradually  growing  weaker 
and  weaker ;  and  at  length  his  voice  sank  away  into 
a  faint  whisper.  Placing  my  arm  beneath  his  shoul 
der  I  removed  the  pillows,  and  laid  his  drooping 


The  Jesuil  and  Jiis  Victim.          277 

head  back.  Then  he  closed  his  eyes  slowly,  and  lay 
motionless. 

The  light  of  day  was  just  breaking  in  the  east,  and 
a  pale  silver  gleam  stole  into  the  room,  and  rested 
upon  his  white  face,  and  silvered  brow. 

No  sound  disturbed  the  deep  and  solemn  silence ; 
for  even  the  old  man's  breathing  had  almost  entirely 
subsided.  I  bent  down  over  the  bed — the  shadow  of 
the  grave  rested  upon  the  sleeper's  brow.  The  pale 
visitor  came  to  the  old  man  kindly  and  gently,  and 
the  tried  heart  mildly  admitted  him.  Anon,  I  rest 
ed  my  hand  upon  his  pulseless  heart,  and  in  the  full 
conviction  of  his  deep  and  earnest  repentance,  whis 
pered:  "Peace  be  with  thee!" 

He  was  dead. 

THE    END. 


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